And keep every text, even the sweet ones.”

She sent it while I watched.

The swoosh it made was the loudest sound in the cafe.

Julian was home by ten past six with the lilies held out in front of him.

“For my gorgeous wife,” he said, “just because I love you.”

They were the tall white ones, the kind that make a house smell like a church, and he had paid extra for the ribbon.

I put my hand on his chest and kissed him, and he leaned into it, a man who has decided he has been forgiven for something he never said out loud.