Anna opened her eyes and gave him a slightly-lingering up-and-down look. "Well you don't look it," she said bluntly, noting the expensive look of his clothing, shoes, and hairstyle.
"He's not," she agreed quietly. There was something in her voice. It was hidden but it was there. Love. She still loved him. "He gambles regularly, and he lost very nearly everything we had. There was only enough left for one month's worth of essentials, and I threw him out after that. I can't stand it. I need something steady. Reliable. Flying by the seat of your pants doesn't work for me, God forbid." She muttered the last part.
God, she needed a drink. A glass of wine or champagne, a shot of tequila, or better yet, a scotch. Whether she had realized it or not, Harry's gambling had thrown her into a drinking addiction. She'd needed a way to cope, and a bad way was better than no way, right?