this out again.”
“Marriage is a useless piece of paper.”
Again.
That word landed hard. As if I were tedious. As if I had been pestering him instead of asking a fair question after ten years of sharing a life.
“So that’s it?” I asked.
“Marriage is a useless piece of paper,” he said. “It changes absolutely nothing. If you need a legal contract to feel secure, that’s your problem, not mine.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, and I finally made a decision.
The contempt in his voice hurt more than the answer.
I thought I might cry. Instead, I looked at him, really looked at him, and I finally made a decision.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Dinner ended. He talked about parking on the drive home.
