I listened.
“I kept telling myself those were tiny moments. That I was still mostly a good husband.”
He paused.
“But Mason showed me what it looks like when you put all those tiny moments together.”
I looked out the window.
“It doesn’t look small.”
“No.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“The cooler.”
“What about it?”
“I watched you struggle with it.”
I said nothing.
“I saw you carrying it. And I still didn’t help.”
“Yes.”
“That seems stupidly small by itself.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“It was proof that I stopped seeing you.”
That sentence stayed between us.
“I stopped seeing you, Claire.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know exactly when.”
“I do.”
He glanced toward me.
“When?”
“When you started treating everything outside our marriage like it was important and everything inside it like it would wait.”
He looked back at the road.
