I crossed the kitchen and crouched beside his chair.
“May I?”
He nodded.
I placed my hand at the back of his neck.
His eye closed briefly.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Stop apologizing.”
“I am allowed when I make a mistake.”
“You didn’t.”
“I made you feel abandoned.”
“For a second.”
“That matters.”
His right hand touched my wrist.
“Next time, leave the bathroom light on.”
“I will.”
He opened his eye.
“There will be a next time?”
“If you ask me to sleep there.”
Color rose at his throat.
“Good.”
I stood.
“Oatmeal.”
“Punishment?”
“Breakfast.”
He drove to the table.
By the time he finished coffee, he became more human. By the time he ate half the oatmeal, he had enough energy to complain about the raisins.
“I don’t like these.”
“You did yesterday.”
“No, I tolerated them.”
“Important distinction.”
