Day into night without a word from my wife and son about Nick’s health or my pro bono gig. Nick either told them, or he didn’t. Jonah and Elizabeth care, or they don’t. Only one time do I worry about having to explain myself, and that’s at the very end of the day, when I head up to find Elizabeth already in bed, wearing a white silk nightgown, leaning against a pillow propped against the wall, reading. She lowers her book, makes a show of hesitating, so I say, “What?”

“You got a call from that luxury dealership in Roslyn. Perry was checking in about the Aston Martin. He wants to know what you’re thinking.” To my relief, Nick’s glands have nothing to do with it.

I undress. “Oh yeah?” Hang my belt on a hook. “What’d you say?”

“Not much, considering you never mentioned the test-drive.”

“No? Yeah, well, I took it out a couple of weeks ago for fun.”

Her pause is an invitation I decline, so she says, “Okay. For fun. So then, you’re not considering buying a car.”

“Not tomorrow or anything.”

“Right. Or the next day.”

“Sure,” I say, “not Monday.”

“Very funny.”

“How about: no time soon.”

“That’s great.”

“Why are you asking like that? Do we have financial concerns I should know about?”

“No.” She laughs. “We’re fine. We just—we can’t get crazy. We can’t start living like the McAlisters, you know?” She reaches for me, grasping at the air as an invitation to take her hand. “Even though they are very sexy cars.”

I don’t hold her hand yet, but I do see an opportunity to try out one of those conversations that makes couples stronger: an opportunity to strengthen our marriage’s immune system. She makes room for me when I sit on the bed to tickle her wrist and say, “If you want to know when that test-drive happened and why, I’m happy to talk about it.”

She closes her book and places it on the nightstand. “Please.”

“It was the day I had my picture taken for the award. The whole thing sort of sunk in. I was so happy, which was embarrassing, but I wanted to share my happiness with you. I called, but you were too busy to talk.”

“I don’t remember.”

I nod.

“Do you not feel like I’ve been supportive enough?”

“You’ve been amazing.” I squeeze her hand. “Really. It just would’ve been nice if you’d been excited, too—if you’d wanted to take me out for dinner to celebrate or something—but you were busy. I understand. It’s not a big deal, but that’s why.”

“That’s why you secretly test-drove a sports car.”

“I wanted to treat myself, Elizabeth. To acknowledge the moment, in a way.”

“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, I—”

“You’ve been incredible.”