Scott’s inability to see how hard some of this was hurt. Obviously, what I was going through paled in comparison to what they were going through, but this wasn’t easy. None of it had been. It didn’t help that he’d barely touched me since she’d been back. Last night I’d made an effort to connect with him before we fell asleep, and he’d pushed my hand off him, mumbling something about being exhausted. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to make love. He hadn’t hooked my pinky with his like we did every night as we fell asleep, and that hurt more than his rejection.
