He reached across the table.
I thought, for one impossible second, that he was going to take my hand. That he was going to say we would figure it out.
Instead, his fingers found my ring.
He slid it off gently, the way you might remove a splinter from a child. Careful. Sorry. Certain.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
I heard myself breathing. I heard the refrigerator hum. I heard Diane swallow.
“Marcus…” I said.
