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And then he put his head back down.
Who My Husband Actually Is
I want to be fair about this, because it’s going to matter.
Ryan was not cruel. He was not entirely selfish, either.
He loved us. He was funny. He was a good father at bath time and a genuinely excellent one on the rare occasions a board game was involved.
He simply thought of effort as a kind of currency — something best spent where there was a visible return.
He’d help a neighbor move a couch if the neighbor was somebody useful. He’d grill at a party if the right people were watching. He’d bring me flowers on Valentine’s Day because everybody at his office talked about what they’d done for Valentine’s Day.
