Sitting across from each other, him watching television, me on the laptop.
Me: Why can’t you be romantic like Sami?
K: As romantic as who?
Me: He’s just so genuine. Sure he’s not perfect, but he’s got the biggest heart. He wears it on his sleeve.
K: pauses TV. Who the heck is Sami?!
Me: You know him K, Sami.
K: The book you’re writing? He’s in the book?
K: basketball resumes. Oh him. Right. I’ll try.
And I guarantee you Sami in this particular situation? Would have promptly raced out and bought a dozen roses. And chocolates. And possibly a pink stuffed bear. The joys of marrying a writer who constantly creates characters you as their spouse are then expected to live up to.