“But why is the onus on me not to be upset? Why can’t you come home earlier? Or not spend every other night out? Why can’t you … I don’t know, be better?” Frank cupped his forehead with his palms and looked down. “What?” she asked. “Too many feelings for you, Frank?” He looked up at her from between his hands. “It’s not fun, you know,” he said quietly. “Always being wrong.”
