For the past few months, Maeve had seemed distracted.
The job had been getting to her.
A few weeks earlier, I’d woken after midnight and found her at the kitchen table with her laptop open and a stack of papers beside it.
The second I walked in, she closed the screen and gathered the papers into a folder.
“What are you working on?”
“Hospital stuff. Go back to bed.”
She kissed my cheek like it was nothing.
She closed the screen and gathered the papers into a folder.
It bothered me more than I admitted.
There had been other late nights, other moments when she seemed somewhere else even while sitting beside me.
I’m embarrassed to admit another possibility had crossed my mind.
I wondered if there was someone else.
Then I’d feel ridiculous.
It bothered me more than I admitted.
Maeve had never given me a reason to distrust her.
