He’s had a stressful month, the truck needed work.

And I looked at my husband, really looked at him, at his crisp collar and his entirely relaxed shoulders, a man who was not uncomfortable anymore, not even slightly, because two years of my keeping the peace had quietly promoted him from the man who gave me the apologetic smile to the man who took the credit for my generosity in front of his father.

It’s his birthday, I said.

He should have whatever he wants.