Forty-five minutes later, Lee comes home.
The apartment is dark; I haven’t bothered to turn on any lights, but at least I’ve stopped the frantic pacing. Instead, I’m sitting on the couch, staring at the black television screen. The only light in the room comes from my phone whenever I wake it up to check the timer I’d set for sixty minutes after leaving him the message.
My stomach churns, my throat burns, and my head is starting to hurt after clenching my teeth for so long. And when he finally comes through the door, I tense even more, the muscles in my shoulders protesting loudly.
I don’t call out for him, and he doesn’t say anything either. His shoes thud to the floor, the closet door opens and closes, his keys and phone land on the table, then padding footsteps walk into the living r
