“Regardless of the fact that my husband was a cheat, our marriage still disintegrated and you know that I spent a lot of time agonizing over that. Including thinking on what I could have done to make it go wrong. In my case, I found out later that it was the simple fact my husband was a cheat. But looking back, there were things that were important to him that he communicated to me that I ignored. Feel free to feel elated that you have the Amelia Hathaway that learned that lesson and isn’t about to make the same mistake again.”

“You sayin’ I had a hand in my wife fucking our marriage?” he asked incredulously.

I made a disbelieving sound and answered, “I’m talking about me, Mickey. You and me.”

He was done with our conversation and shared this by stating, “I got shit to do and part of that shit is not fightin’ with you.”

“Then I’ll let you go,” I shot back. “You and the boys enjoy your donated microwave and TV. Good-bye, Mickey.”

“Later,” he bit off and hung up on me.

I stared at the electronics store through my windshield, gave a moment’s thought to how all that could have gone so bad and came up with one answer: Mickey. Then I emitted a muted, frustrated scream.

After that, I started up my new Rover and drove away.

* * * * *

It was late. I was in my bathroom in my nightie, cleaning my face when the doorbell rang.

I looked to the mirror, grabbed my hand towel, dried my face and nabbed my robe off its hook before I walked out.

I wanted not to answer.

But unfortunately I was grown up.

I was home. He probably knew I was home. So it was mean-spirited not to answer.

I swung the robe on as I walked down the hall and inspected the body shadowed in the stained glass before I went to the door, opened it and looked up at Mickey in his firefighter-not-fighting-a-fire uniform.

“Can I help you?” I asked coldly.

“I’m a dick,” he replied.

Unfortunately, as I’d spent the day gearing up to hold a Robin-style grudge against him (the new Robin, the one who held a grudge for twenty-four hours, not eternity), his words delivered a direct hit to that determination.

I held on to enough to share, “You can be.”

“We both been through the wringer. You got shit left over to process and get past with your ex. I do too.”

He was correct about that and my determination took another hit.

This time, I decided on no reply.

His brows went up. “Gonna make me stand on your doorstep sayin’ this shit?”

“You have an ongoing issue with my wealth, Mickey,” I informed him.

“Workin’ on that,” he informed me, but he didn’t deny it.

He might be working on it but he was obviously failing.