Aaliyah looked at the key. It was small and silver and heavier than it should have been.
"I'll take it," she said. "I won't open it tonight."
"Fair."
They ate dessert. They drove home through streets lined with dry August yards. In the driveway Marcus turned off the engine and did not get out.
"I need to say one more thing," he said. "About October. About the laundry room. I will spend the rest of our marriage earning back the right to be trusted with hard things. I don't expect the ledger to balance because I got her into therapy or because Elias loves her or because you and I are still here. Those are outcomes. The breach was the secret. I am still sorry for the secret."
Aaliyah sat with the apology. She had heard versions of it before, in Denise's office and in their kitchen and once at two in the morning on the laundry room floor. This one sounded less like a man trying to be absolved and more like a man stating a fact he intended to live inside.