When I came downstairs the next morning, the can of tomatoes was already sitting on the kitchen island.
It had been placed right where no one could miss it, the red label facing out, like a secret I had abandoned in the pantry last night had been quietly picked up overnight and set where everyone could see it. Cindy was making eggs. When she heard me come in, she turned with a smile and said, “I asked you to get that yesterday, and Neil still ended up bringing it out. Since when did you learn to outsource chores to him?”
She was only teasing.
But my stomach tightened at the sight of it. So he had gone back in after all. He knew I had come out with nothing. He had not followed me, but he had gone back and taken care of what I left behind.
“I forgot,” I said.
Cindy did not ask more. She
