“I also want you to let me see you grieve,” I said.

“I don’t always know how.”

“Neither do I.”

He came around the counter and put his arms around me.

We didn’t speak for a long time.

The dishwasher hummed.

Rain tapped against the kitchen window.

I let myself believe that learning how to be together after Hannah’s death would take practice, the same way every good thing in our marriage had taken practice.