“Relax,” he said. “I’m joking.”
The jokes didn’t stop.
He’d hover while I got dressed, watching my reflection instead of my face.
“Your thighs didn’t used to touch like that.”
“I just had a baby, Jake.”
“Look at my friends’ wives,” he said. “They bounced back. They actually care.”
The word embarrassed slipped out one night like it was nothing.
“I don’t want to be embarrassed going out with you.”
I locked myself in the bathroom and cried with the fan on so he wouldn’t hear.
A few weeks later, he came home carrying a grocery bag, smiling like he’d done something thoughtful.
“Got you something.”
He dumped it on the counter.
