He said nothing.
“I’m exhausted too. I deserve a couple of hours to myself just as much as you do.”
Not this time.
Johnny opened his mouth, but whatever excuse he had clearly sounded bad even to him.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
I stared at him.
Sorry wasn’t going to be enough.
Not this time.
He showered
The next morning, Johnny woke up acting like the worst of it had passed.
Apparently, in his mind, getting caught, saying sorry, and sleeping on it had somehow closed the case.
It was Saturday, and he was in an excellent mood.
He showered, got dressed, checked his phone, and even started humming while he hunted for his sneakers.
I said nothing.
I knew exactly why.
Weeks earlier, he had told me about his plans: basketball with his friends in the morning, lunch afterward, and maybe drinks if everyone felt like staying out.
Normally, I would have asked what time he planned to be home.
That morning, I said nothing.
I looked at him.
Johnny clearly took my silence as a good sign.
He came into the kitchen already looking ready to leave and glanced around the counters.
“So, what are we doing for breakfast?”