There was a pause, then a woman’s voice saying something I couldn’t make out.
« I’m Googling last rites. »
« I’ve gotta run, babe. »
The line went dead before I could answer.
I held the phone a second longer than I should have. Colleagues, obviously. A hotel lobby. A coworker leaning in to catch his attention. That’s what settled wives told themselves, and I was settled.
I set the phone down.
I held the phone a second longer.
I did remember, though, the way Michael had snapped at me last month when I mentioned adoption. « We don’t need that, » he’d said, sharper than the sentence deserved.
I remembered the second phone buzzing on his nightstand that morning while he was in the shower, and how quickly he’d pocketed it when he came out, still toweling his hair.
I put that aside, too.
