She dragged me in one store, then another, then another. I felt hot, my patience wavering. We ended up in a jewelry store and Carolyn tried on a pair of diamond studs. They looked beautiful on her. I checked the price. Six hundred dollars. She took them off and handed them back and we left.

“One day we’ll be able to afford earrings like that,” I said.

“I don’t care if we’re ever able to afford them,” she replied, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. I didn’t believe her for a minute.

We entered a store advertising summer sales and Carolyn tried on two dresses.

“I think I like this one better,” she said, holding up a somewhat trashy floral print with a liberal back, so short that whoever sat across from her would see her crotch every time she crossed her legs. The fabric was thin and I was sure it’d be rendered transparent by the glare of a bright light behind it. Carolyn seemed oblivious to this and it reminded of the time when, a month or so after she had moved in, she undressed and plucked from her pile of clothes a black lace halter she thought looked provocative, but to me made her look cheap and tawdry for the sole reason that it was something I imagined Jimmy would’ve loved. As far as I knew, he had bought it for her himself. How many times had Carolyn modeled it for him in the exact way she did for me? No man wants to see a woman he loves in something so intimate as lingerie he’s certain she’s worn for another. It doesn’t matter how sexy it looks on her. Actually, the sexier she looks the greater the jealousy, and I burned with it that day and asked her to take it off, after which she turned sullen and we didn’t even make love.

“Yeah? How come?” I asked.

“It’s pretty.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Do you not like it?”

I shrugged. “It’s not that. I just think you look prettier in the blue.”

She put on the blue dress again and twirled for me. It really did look great on her, and I’m not just saying that because it was longer and covered more, but rather it made her look graceful; it was a dress I couldn’t imagine her wearing before we started dating. I knew she had nothing like it at home. She bought it. I carried the bag outside. My feet hurt from walking and my back was stiff from sitting all morning at the café. Carolyn could sense my agitation and dragged me into a restaurant on Ohio.

“How are you guys doing today?” the server asked in a fake falsetto and a surfeit of enthusiasm.

“Good,” Carolyn said.