LUCY
I have lived with Sam long enough to know the difference between change and performance.
Actual change—especially from a man as stubborn, proud, and deeply rooted in his ways as Sam was—came slowly, grudgingly, and usually with the emotional equivalent of claw marks through steel. It was next to impossible; the stubborn mule was the ultimate test of my patience at times.
But performance? That came quickly. Too quickly.
And Sam, for the last three days, had been performing his heart out.
He was attentive to a level that bordered on suffocating, doting in a way he hadn’t been since Rio arrived.
Every morning, he woke early and went on morning runs with his cat, Drake, always claiming he was well despite the obvious bags under his eyes from being up late or too early. He is now i
