“What face?”
“The one that says you’re thinking too hard about something.”
I smiled. “I didn’t sleep well.”
His expression softened immediately. He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I hate when that happens. I’ll bring dinner home tonight.”
For one second, it almost worked. I almost forgot the message entirely.
Then my eyes drifted, without my permission, to the watch on his wrist.
Last night was perfect.
Those four words settled over breakfast like an uninvited guest neither of us was willing to acknowledge out loud.
When we finished eating, Elliot rinsed his plate, grabbed his laptop bag, and headed for the garage. At the door, he stopped and looked back at me — something almost hesitant crossing his face, like he wanted to say one more thing.
Instead he just smiled. “Love you.”
“I love you too.”
There was something almost hesitant in his expression.
The garage door rumbled open. A minute later, his SUV disappeared down Hollis Road.
I stood at the kitchen window long after he was gone.
If I asked him about the message tonight, maybe he’d tell me the truth. If he lied, I’d never actually know either way.
If he lied, I’d never actually know either way.
