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If Tia thought he wasn’t a real man, she definitely wouldn’t think so after he’d told her his secret.
    So he left things the way they were—with his wife not knowing what he had been through or what he could not get past. He sighed heavily. He was so far from being irritated that to feel that way now would have been a blessing. No. Lorenzo was way past irritated. He was done. Defeated.
    Game over.

Chapter Six
    Fifteen minutes later, Tia walked through the front door of her house. Her German shepherd, Catch, raced around the corner to greet her. He was as loyal as dogs came. He stood up on his hind legs, and the full force of his weight pushed her 115-pound frame backward until there was no space left between her back and the mahogany door she’d just closed. He continued to lavish her with tongue licks and shoulder paws, and Tia thought about how some women often referred to men as dogs.
    She looked over at Lorenzo slouched on the couch and—in his case—she wished he would act like a dog, their dog. She gave Catch a final hug and squeezed past his bulky frame.
    â€œHey,” she said to Lorenzo. She tried to make her voice sound light and airy. “How’s it going?”
    â€œFine,” Lorenzo answered simultaneously tapping his fingers on the end table.
    A stifling silence filled the air.
    â€œWhere’s Serenity?” Tia asked.
    â€œAt the library, I think, or over at one of her girlfriends’ house. I’m not sure.”
    â€œShe’s supposed to be home,” Tia said hanging up her coat. “It’s Wednesday night.”
    Lorenzo got up and walked past Tia into the kitchen, slightly kicking his jacket on the floor as he passed.
    The stench attached to the jacket was activated by the movement, and Tia’s nostrils flared. “What’s that smell?” she asked, frowning.
    â€œWhat smell?”
    â€œLike something rotten,” she said with a scowl. “You don’t smell that?”
    â€œNope.”
    She followed him into the kitchen. “Lorenzo, we need to talk.”
    He didn’t respond as he turned on the oven, and then took a slab of beef ribs out of the refrigerator.
    â€œLook, Lorenzo,” she said, “something needs to change. I need to be touched, and hugged, and made love to. By you,” she added. “My husband.”
    Lorenzo carefully began removing the plastic wrapping from the meat.
    Tia sighed. “What’s the problem, Lorenzo?”
    â€œI don’t have a problem,” he said, half-swirling his neck so that he could look at her briefly. “But if you think I do,” he turned away and began cutting through a boney section of the meat, “why don’t you just leave?”
    â€œ Really? ” Tia’s eyebrows arched as she stood staring at his broad back. “Is that the only solution you can come up with? That I should leave?”
    He continued separating the ribs into smaller sections, throwing each one into a pan as he severed the tendons and flesh that held them all together. “Well, you’re the one complaining,” he said, shifting his weight to one leg.
    â€œRight.” Tia placed her hands on her hips. “And why do you think that is?” She waited for him to respond as he put the last rib in the pan, and then began to season them.
    â€œAre you going to answer me, Lorenzo?” She could feel her heartbeat increasing. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
    He gave the ribs a gentle rub, and she felt a pang of jealousy. So this is what it had come to?—She was competing with a slab of ribs for his attention. “You see that?” She was near hysterics as she pointed to the ribs. “When’s the last time you rubbed me like that?” Her eyes were bulging. “When’s the last time you touched me—period?”
    He opened the door to the preheated oven and slid the pan onto the top shelf. “I really