Page 92 of Less

But I can hear the smile in his voice.

And that almost breaks my heart.

Because we both know what's coming.

“What happened three years ago?”

Everything stops.

His hand stills.

His breathing changes.

I look at him, and suddenly I wish I'd never asked.

Because the pain that flashes across his face?

I've never seen anything like it.

Not even yesterday, after the accident.

I bite my lower lip.

Waiting.

Not wanting to rush him.

But I need the truth.

And I think—maybe he needs to tell it.

For three years I've imagined a thousand different explanations.

He found someone else.

He stopped loving me.

He got tired of me.

Realized I was too much.

Too emotional.

Too needy.

Too loud.

Too curvy.

Not enough.

Never enough.

But somehow—somehow the truth turns out to be something I never considered.

Less stares up at the ceiling. He nudges me and sits up.

So I do too, and I turn myself so I’m facing him but we’re still touching.