Knowing there’s only one other place he could be if he didn’t come upstairs to stalk me, I head to his study and find him sitting at his desk with a grim look on his face as he hangs up the phone. There will always be a part of me that panics when I see him look that way, a tiny flare of worry that will forever shoot through me, hoping to find purchase in lingering insecurities. I’ve come to accept it, to acknowledge its presence and explore what its trying to tell me before separating fact from feeling.
