His face was flushed.
I stopped beside the door.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He locked the phone and placed it facedown on the blanket.
I set the duffel near the wardrobe. “What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Noah.”
He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
“You’re in it.”
“I expected I would be.”
“A great deal.”
“We shared a home.”
“I know.”
The words came out sharper than he intended.
I stayed where I was.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“No.”
“Do you want me closer?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
I took the chair beside the bed.
For several seconds, he stared at the dark phone screen.
“Most of the messages are dull,” he said.
“Most lives are dull.”
“There are hundreds about groceries.”
“We were passionate about household administration.”
“You reminded me three times to buy dish soap.”
“You forgot twice.”
“Did I ever remember?”
