Once upon a time, I’d loved my husband. His beauty, his ambition, his intelligence. The wildflowers he’d plucked for me on his way home from a graveyard shift, and the gentle kisses he’d trailed over my shoulder when I stubbornly refused to heed my alarm clock. But once upon a time was a long time ago, and now, as I watched him walk through the door for the first time in weeks, all I felt was a deep, dull ache in the places where love once resided.
