“I wish you’d quit that,” you tell him, massaging his shoulders while he sits on your deck for a smoke. He looks up at you and then back out at the waves.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll try,” he says and rubs up and down your arms you wrap around his broad shoulders. You pull off his glasses and he squints.

After rubbing his scalp and pepper his cheeks and forehead with kisses, he does not yank you into his lap like he usually does. When he doesn’t say anything and hardly even reacts you frown. Before you can say anything he cuts you off.

“I’m just tired, hon’, m’sorry,” he takes your hand and kisses your palm, then your knuckles, “you get ready for bed, I’ll be in soon.”