“Are you not enjoying being her… lesser… half, then?” she asked me, eyes holding mine with a complete frankness that told me she would expect nothing less from me in return.
I couldn’t meet her stare and looked down.
“I thought as much,” she said, voice not inviting contradiction but, given her own marital experience, not judgmental either.
With no advance warning I was about to do it, and absolutely mortified when I did, I began to cry.
For the first time since I was skinning knees in playgrounds I began to sob.
And not in a sniffing, if no less weak, way, but full-on and debilitating sobbing for the wreckage of what had once been a happy marriage.
I was about to try and choke out an apology for my spineless behaviour when Ronnie was suddenly at my side, one arm going around my shou
