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I sat there for a long moment, working through fourteen months of exhausted night shifts and careful meal planning and quiet nights sitting beside a man too sick to lift his own water glass, all of it apparently about to be erased over a decision he’d made entirely alone, three weeks earlier, without a single word to me about it.
« The parking garage, most likely, » Dr. Alderman said. « He mentioned needing time to think before he actually filed anything formally. »
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I found Griffin sitting in our car in the hospital parking garage, hands resting on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.
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I opened the passenger door and got in without asking permission.
« Griffin, » I said. « Dr. Alderman told me about the genetic testing. About Li-Fraumeni syndrome. »
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His whole body went rigid.
« She wasn’t supposed to tell you that, » he said.
« She told me because you’re making a massive decision about our entire marriage based on information you decided I didn’t get to have, » I said. « I think, actually, she made exactly the right call. »
