She lowered the phone.
« You have to stop taking pictures of this kitchen. It’s starting to freak me out. »
Her shoulders sagged.
« What’s freaking you out? »
« This. Every morning. You have hundreds of pictures. »
Her eyes narrowed.
« You looked through my phone? »
« We know each other’s passwords. »
« That’s not what I asked. »
I knew immediately I’d stepped into a different argument.