On it was a list of reliable plumbers, electricians, and gardeners and, at the bottom, a dating app suggestion circled in red. “If you keep calling my husband,”
I told her calmly, “I’ll assume you can’t read.” Her face flushed crimson, her jaw tightening, but for once she had no words. On the drive home, Henry was quiet until he finally admitted, “I didn’t realize how it looked.
You’re right she’s taking advantage of me. I’ll tell her she needs to stop calling.” And he did. Three months later, Liz had found herself a new man ironically, one of the plumbers from my list.
As for Henry, he finally fixed our faucet, showed up for our anniversary dinner, and learned exactly where his loyalty belonged. Now, when the toolbox comes out, it’s only for our home and for me.
