"None of the above. You forget, he’s always out late."

"Duh," she says and slaps her brow with the palm of her hand. "Working musician."

"Anyway, I can’t quite put my finger on it. We just don’t seem to do as much together. I mean, we used to do the shopping as a couple. Yard work, household chores. Now he’s says that if I’m getting groceries, it’s more efficient if he puts in a laundry, or does some weeding in the garden. I liked that we did that kind of thing together, but now we hardly do."

"So tell him."

"I have. It doesn’t help."

"And is he taking more out-of-town gigs than he used to?"

I shake my head. "No, but that’s a funny thing. I was looking at the calendar the other day and noticed that most of his out-of-town gigs are during a full moon. Then I checked the Web site his booking agent put up for him, and he’s always out of town during the full moon."

Gwen smiles. "Maybe he’s a werewolf."

"That’s not helping."

"I’m sorry," she says. "But there’s always been something different about him."

Different? I suppose. There’s certainly always been a part of him that I can’t reach—that I feel I’ll never know—but that touch of mystery is half of what attracted me to him in the first place. And I’ve never been the kind of person who believes in changing the person I’m with. You fall in love with them because of who they are. Unless they acquire some new, destructive habit, why would you want to change them?

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