silently before admitting “I felt like we stopped seeing each other.” He described our routines and concluded “We were just moving through routines. Work. Dinner. Sleep. Weekends. Your mom got sick, then my dad had surgery, then work got crazy. Somewhere in there, we stopped being us.” I interrupted: “My mother died.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to list that like it was a scheduling inconvenience.” He said, “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Then be careful.” He conceded, “You’re right.” Then: “Laura listened to me.”
I almost laughed. I
