why our marriage works differently now.
Last month, Adrian had to travel to Denver for a real client meeting.
The night before, he placed his itinerary on the kitchen counter.
Flight number.
Hotel.
Client address.
He didn’t need to.
I hadn’t asked.
I looked at the paper.
Then at him.
“You know I’m not your parole officer, right?”
He smiled slightly.
“I know.”
I folded the itinerary and placed it beside the fruit bowl.
The next morning, he kissed me, kissed Caleb, and left for the airport.
Ten minutes later,
