Fifteen

The ride home was a total drag. Arthur drove like a man possessed, knuckles white on the wheel, staring out the windshield like he was in a high-speed chase with his past. I kept stealing glances at him, feeling a pit form in my stomach. The Arthur who'd been all smooth operator back at the office was MIA, replaced by this brooding statue of a man.

"Arthur ," I finally ventured, breaking the tense silence. My voice sounded squeaky even to my own ears.

He flinched, like I'd jolted him with a cattle prod. "Huh? Yeah?"

"Everything alright?"

He blew out a breath, the kind you make when you're trying not to lose it. "Just a long day, Morgan . No big deal."

There it was again, that frustrating brick wall he built around himself. We'd been married for months, and he still retreated into Mr. Stoic whenever things got a little hairy. It stung, a constant reminder of the whole "limited emotional availability" spiel he'd laid down before we even started dating.

I loved him. Like, whoa, did I lov