That was the first strange thing.
Robert did not shake.
« Gifts are money leaving the house. »
He balanced our checkbook every Sunday with a blue pen, clipped coupons with the focus of a surgeon, and once drove 12 miles back to a grocery store because a cashier had charged us twice for canned tomatoes.
But that morning, he dropped his tie clip twice.
« Big day? » I asked.
His eyes met mine in the mirror, then slid away.
« For you, Elle. »
He only called me Elle when he was nervous or tender, and lately, he had been too exhausted to be either.
He only called me Elle when he was nervous.
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