Later in life, I agreed to marry a man with disability — there was no love between us

stubbornness with a sense of doubt.
On a damp, drizzly autumn afternoon, I nodded. No dresses. No string quartet. City Hall, two witnesses, rings we’d ordered online, dinner at a diner where the waitress called everyone “honey.” We drove home in his old truck, the wipers squeaking, parked quietly between us like a third passenger.
My new bedroom smelled continue reading …