My Tracker Disappeared Until My Dad Called And Told Me To Run

husband’s voice came from the kitchen, easy and unhurried. “What’s up?”

“Did you move my bracelet?”

A pause. Not long. Maybe two seconds. “Your bracelet? No. Why would I move it?”

I wrapped myself in a towel and walked to the bathroom doorway. Marco was leaning against the kitchen counter in the gray shirt he always wore on Saturdays, holding a mug of continue reading …