I Stop Caring About You

1.

From the gap in the passenger seat of my husband Vincent's Audi Q7, I pulled out a limited-edition Funko Pop keychain.

A glow-in-the-dark Eleven―the same one his department intern, Sloane, had hanging from her backpack every day.

Vincent glanced over, casually saying, "The surgery was completed too late last night, and I took two interns home along the way. It might have been dropped by someone."

I tossed the keychain into the center console storage, not even looking up. "Fine."

I’d met