My Mascara Was Her Freebie
Language: en
My husband bought me a mascara. After seven years together, Bennett—a man who couldn’t tell the difference between foundation and concealer if his life depended on it—still didn’t understand why I spent forty minutes at the vanity every morning. But he loved to watch. He loved to compliment me. Curious, I asked him how he even knew I was running low. He scratched the back of his neck, giving me that boyish, lopsided grin. "You usually only pump the wand twice before applying it. Last week, I counted six pumps. I figured it was drying out." My throat tightened. It was such a small,…