He said he’d never read it. I told him he should. He said he’d read it if I went out with him.
He never read it.
But I went out with him anyway.
We got married when I was twenty-five. Ava came three years later. Then, after a long gap and two miscarriages I still don’t like to talk about, June came. She’s three now. She has Max’s curly hair and my stubbornness and she thinks the word “banana” is the funniest thing in the world.
For a long time, I thought we were happy.
Then, about two years ago, things changed.
It started small.
Max started going to the gym. Five days a week. Then six. He hired a personal trainer. He started drinking green smoothies and posting pictures of himself flexing in the mirror.
That was fine. I was glad he was taking care of himself.
But he
