He kissed my forehead.
“Someday you’ll understand.”
“I’d prefer to understand tonight.”
“Tonight, I want you to sleep.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Exactly what she deserves.
For weeks, I wondered whether Harrison regretted marrying me.
Then our life became ordinary.
And ordinary changed everything.
He learned I needed a small light left on in the hallway because darkness reminded me of the night my mother died.
I learned he hated eating alone but pretended not to care.
He woke before dawn and read financial newspapers at the kitchen counter. I made coffee and corrected his habit of burning toast.
He gave me an unlimited credit card.
I left it untouched in a drawer.
He deposited ten thousand dollars into my account.
I transferred it back.
Finally, I told him I wanted a job.
“You don’t need one.”
“I didn’t ask what I need.”
He studied me for a moment.
