“Well, somehow every conversation turns into one.”
His words stung.
I finally asked the question I’d been avoiding.
“Ashton, are you tired of being married to me?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence was worse than anything he could have said.
I went into our bedroom, hoping a little time apart would help us both calm down.
Several minutes later, Ashton entered.
I thought he might apologize.
Instead, through my still-blurry vision, I watched him crouch beside our bed and slide something underneath it.
He glanced toward me.
I quickly lowered my eyes.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going to take a shower.”
I nodded.
But my heart was pounding.
What had he hidden?
And what else might he have been doing right in front of me because he believed I couldn’t see?
That night, I barely slept.
The following morning, Ashton left for work at his usual time.
