Ashleigh said, hovering at the door to the living area. Why did women always want to have a conversation when rugby was on? I reached for her to pull her onto my knee. “I’m serious. Can we talk?” Her voice was wobbly. I glanced at her face to see if I could read what was going through her head. “Can I just watch this conversion?” We were neck and neck with the All Blacks. Ashleigh forced a smile, pushed off my lap and headed back into the bedroom, where she’d been most of the morning. Shit. I muted the TV and followed her. I found her sitting on the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixed to the floor. “I don’t think we’re going to work out.” I laughed. “Is my rugby watching too much to bear?” I sat down next to her. She moved away from me. “I’m serious. I think I’m going to move out. The tenant hasn’t moved into my place yet.
