‘The house looks great.’
He smiles nervously, waiting for my response, to see if I’ve taken the comment as praise or as a criticism on how it looked before the decorators came.
‘Thanks,’ I say, smiling widely, making sure it reaches my eyes, something I’ve been practicing in the mirror. Something I’ve got really good at.
He looks relieved. I’ll let him have that moment, knowing he won’t have many more, knowing Sam is waiting with a hammer.
There’s a moral to be learned here – never tell your scorned wife the contents of your will.