Not All Love Stories Lead to Rome
On the day we got our marriage license, Ryan Miller laid down a rule: now that we were married, if we slept in separate rooms for more than a week, we were automatically considered divorced.
So every time we argued, the moment he picked up his pillow and headed for the guest room, I'd immediately give in and apologize, no matter who was at fault. For three years, he used that one rule to control me completely.
On my 28th birthday, he stood me up again because of an intern at work.
When he got home, I didn't reach for the diamond necklace he held out to me. He frowned, studying me for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice cold.
"So, in your eyes, a birthday that comes every single year is more important than someone's life? I took Katie to the hospital and came back as fast as I could, but you still want to pick a fight? Emily, your jealousy honestly scares me."
With that, he turned and walked toward the guest room.
But this time, I didn't follow him.