I've never liked winter.

Never ever.

I think there is nothing worse than snow, and I think cold is a natural phenomenon that should be obliterated. I mean what the fuck? What happened to global warming? I was counting on it. It was supposed to make me a happier person! Instead, I'm riding shotgun in Ashley's car, shivering from head to toe, waiting for her car to warm up. It's a nice car. Really- it's a great car. But my ego has taken enough blows today so for now, it's only a nice car.

With leather interior heated seats tinted windows motorized seats a sunroof a satellite radio a---

"Why so quiet?"

She pulls me out of my jealous revere with her husky, yet distinctly feminine voice.

I shrug.

"Just debating if it would be easier to kill my husband or kill myself."

A throaty chuckle escapes her lips.

"Over a malfunctioning car?"

"Over his malfunctioning car, actually. God forbid I pay for my own car and be able to drive it."

I clench my teeth. I will not think of that. I will not lose my temper and go on an ill-advised rant with a someone I only know when I place my order every morning. I will not.

"He's just so fucking selfish!," explodes past my lips (I was never one for keeping my emotions to myself), " I mean really. Why the hell can't he take his own god damn car? I'll tell you why. Because he knew it was only a matter of time before this happened and he'd rather it be ME stuck in the subarctic temperatures than HIM. Dickwad!"

There's a moment of silence in the car.

"You're laughing, aren't you?"

"No, no I'm not," she says, a very lame attempt at a lie as the corners of her mouth are twitching, "I'm just wondering."

"Wondering what, precisely?"

"Nothing, I mean, it's none of my business anyways," she replies, "Are you going to give me any directions or just hope that luck brings me to your house?"

"Take a left here. You're changing the subject. What are you wondering about?"

She sighs.

"I'm probably overstepping stranger to stranger boundaries, but I'm just wondering why you'd marry a guy so involved with himself?"

I shrug again.

"He loves me."

An awkward moment of silent now passes and then—

"Do you love him?"

Now, for the record, I don't need clarification that this is where I messed up. I shouldn't have hesitated when she asked that question. It should have been immediate. A heartfelt "Yes, I want to grow old with him, bear his children, watch The Andy Griffith Show every minute of every day until eventually we die together, get buried together, and live in Heaven together."

Or some romantic bullshit like that.

Instead, I actually pause to think this question through.

Do I love Aiden?

Do I?

Of course I do. I mean, he's my husband. I have to love him. We live together, share a bed together, live our lives together… How can I do that with someone I don't love? It's not possible. I have to love him. He's a sweet guy. Sometimes. He accepts me for my faults and I for his. Sometimes. Could I accept someone I didn't love so unconditionally?

Ashley clears her throat uncomfortably and it pulls me from my thoughts.

"Of course I love him," I reply, "I wouldn't have married him if I didn't."

Although I try to say it with some sort of solidity, it kind of comes out as a question.

"Are you trying to convince you or me?," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"My apologies. I wasn't aware this was the Oprah show."

She laughs lightly and shrugs.

"Just making small talk."