“I tried.”
“No. You complained that we never did anything exciting. That’s not the same as telling me you wanted out.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You told her I died 12 years ago. Was that easier than telling her you were still married to me?”
He couldn’t answer.
“You used your broken finger. You told her you stopped wearing your ring because I died.”
“Lisa, please.”
“I was there when you broke that finger. I drove you to urgent care. I took care of you.”
My voice cracked.
“You took something that happened to us and turned it into a story about losing me.”
Mark started crying.
I’d held him through funerals, layoffs, and family arguments.
For a moment, habit made me want to comfort him.
Then I remembered Claire twisting the ring he’d given her.
“Pack a bag,” I said.
