He looked up.
“I’ve decided.”
I leaned against the doorway.
Olive looked excited.
“We’re moving?”
I walked over and sat beside her.
“We’re considering moving after the school year.”
“Will I get my own room?”
“Yes.”
“Can I paint it green?”
Ben looked at me.
I smiled.
“That’s between you and the paint aisle.”
Olive grinned and ran upstairs to find paint colors.
Ben waited until she was gone.
“You’re sure?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He reached for my hand.
I let him.
“But understand something.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not following you.”
He nodded.
“We’re going together.”
“Exactly.”
The months that followed weren’t perfect.
That was the part nobody warned us about.
A new city didn’t magically repair an old marriage.
We still argued.
We still got tired.
We still disagreed about money.
There were nights when Ben came home frustrated because the hospital was understaffed.
There were mornings when I panicked because a client cancelled.
There were days when Olive missed her old friends.
But there was one difference.
We talked.
Before decisions.
Not after.
One evening, Ben came home early.
Olive was doing homework at the kitchen table.
I was answering emails.
He walked in and smiled.
