Nathan rolls his eyes. He pulls out a chair for me to sit beside him, pours me some coffee, and adds a couple of toasts to my plate.

"Well, if I ever go bankrupt, at least I know my beautiful wife can make me a sandwich. You, Iris? You’re so useless you probably couldn’t even pour yourself a glass of water," he shoots back coldly. Then, turning to me, his tone softens, "Everything looks delicious, sweetheart."

We begin eating breakfast, or at least Nathan and I do. The two redheads flat-out ...