« Our anniversary is in three days. Ten years. Are we doing something or are you going to keep pretending you forgot? »
« I haven’t forgotten. »
« Good. »
He glanced at his phone again, that same soft smile, and slipped it into his back pocket before I could see the screen.
« I have to run out for an hour, » he said. « Errand. »
« On a Wednesday morning? Don’t you have work? »
« Boring one. Promise. »
I watched him go and told myself I was being ridiculous.
Grief did strange things to a person. My mother used to say suspicion was just love with nowhere to land, and lately my love had nowhere at all.
That evening, I went to put away a stack of towels in the guest room, but the door wouldn’t open.
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