“He was a bore, that’s for sure.”

“Sad, especially when he had someone like you he could play with.” I roll my eyes, but he places his hand on my thigh and says, “I’m not just speaking sex. I mean in general. One of the reasons you’re in a marriage is to have a partner in life that you can do things with, that you can experience things with, you know? And if you don’t take the time to have those experiences, then what’s the goddamn point?”

I nod, thinking back to all the things that I wish Matt had done with me.

“I can see you thinking of those things. You know what? We should make a bucket list of things you want to do now that you’re no longer with an actual ball and chain.” He reaches into the bag of activities that we were given for our picnic, and he pulls out a pad of paper and a pen.

“Was that really in there?”

“Yup,” he says and then flips open to a blank page and writes Scottie’s Ball and Chain–Free Bucket List at the top.

“Quite the title,” I say.

“A necessary one.” He poises the pen. “Okay, what are we putting on here?”

I glance at his hand, the bracelet I made him still fastened around his wrist. “Um, I mean, I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he encourages. “Don’t be shy about it. Tell me what’s on that list.”

I lean back on my hand and look up toward the sky. “Umm, well, he never wanted to do anything outside the house, said it was a waste of money. There was a cooking class I wanted to go to, and he would never go.”

“Great. Cooking class.” He writes it on the paper.

“And he never took me to the movies because he said we should just wait until it was on a streaming service, but I always thought that seeing a movie in the theaters was so much better.”

“I could not agree more. See a movie in the theaters.” He jots it down.

“With popcorn and the movie theater candy. Like go all out. No sneaking anything in.”

“Spend fifty dollars at concessions, noted.”

I think about it some more. “You know, we were once on a kiss cam, and he drank his beer rather than kiss me. So I want to be on a kiss cam and kiss someone, even if it’s myself.”

“He drank his beer?” Wilder shakes his head. “What a douche.”

“Yes, that would be an accurate description.”

Wilder jots down the note, but I can see the irritation in his expression.

“Go skinny-dipping,” I say, thinking about the time we were at his parents’ house, alone with a pool, and he didn’t want to go skinny-dipping with me. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Easy. Okay, keep going.”