Emma stared at the socks. Then at him. Then at the door to the house they’d bought together, the one with the leaky faucet and the crooked shelf and the bedroom where they’d stopped sleeping close.
Emma’s eyes stung. She looked down at her hands. The ring. The rainbows. Cold Feet
“I know.”
“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Yeah, I can do that.” Emma stared at the socks