Chapter 2

Back home, the workers Rex had hired were still hammering away. They hadn't just put rails in the bathroom. There were rails by the kitchen sink, next to the shoe cabinet, along the edge of the living room planter, at every single spot where a person might have to bend or crouch down.

One of the men installing them chuckled. "Your husband really loves you. Even the blueprints we drew up weren't as detailed as his. Next time we install these for a pregnant woman, we might have to pay your husband a licensing fee."

I didn't smile. I just asked, "Do a lot of pregnant women get these installed?"

The worker gave an awkward laugh. "You're actually the first. Goes to show how much your husband cares about you."

I smiled then, because for other pregnant women, the husband might not wait on them hand and foot, but he'd at least lend a hand. To avoid any physical contact with me, Rex had filled the whole house with rails. That wasn't just caring. That was painstaking effort.

By the time Rex got home, I was already in bed.

He carried the faint trace of perfume, and pregnancy had already made me sensitive to smells, so I just rolled over to get away from it.

Rex only moved closer. "How's the baby?"

I sat up. "There's an ultrasound in the nightstand drawer. The doctor said it's healthy."

Rex came in and turned on only the little nightlight. In that faint glow, he looked at the ultrasound again and again. "The nose is like mine, the eyes and mouth are both like yours. It's going to be a beautiful baby."

"It's still tiny, what can you even tell from that?" I said it, but I still wavered, because eyes don't lie. The smile and the joy on Rex's face were real.

Maybe he would be a good father.

The next second, Rex leaned in and kissed me. I froze.

"What? Stunned?" He put his arms around me. "I wanted to surprise you. I've been getting therapy. I'm hoping to be able to hold you and the baby close from now on."

"What kind of therapy is it?"

Rex was quiet for a few seconds. "It's very professional. That therapist is very good."

I nodded. "Let's sleep. I'm tired."

The next day Rex put on a blue shirt I'd never seen before. It still had creases in it, and the tag on the back collar hadn't been cut off.

"Daph, how's this shirt?"

"Is it new?"

"That therapist suggested I buy it. She said I should get used to environments full of germs."

I tried not to think about how exactly he was getting used to it, but my mind kept dragging me back to when we first moved in together.

Back then I'd happily washed Rex's clothes by hand, only to find the clean clothes in the trash the next day.

"Don't touch my clothes. You'll get them dirty."

Anything I washed, ironed, or even just put away for him showed up in the trash the next day.

It was the same now. Two days ago, when I did the laundry, I'd accidentally mixed in his blue shirt, and now here he was, wearing a brand-new shirt that had never even seen water.

"So many people tried that shirt on. That's not dirty?"

Rex frowned. "That's part of the therapy too."

"Then should I bring you one tomorrow?"

"No need. This one's enough."

I smiled, walked into the bedroom, and opened the cabinet door. My hand had barely reached his clothes when he yelled, "Don't touch them, they're dirty!"

I ignored him and kept digging through, until a pair of women's underwear fell out. "What is this?"

Rex flushed red. "That's also treating my germaphobia!"

"So the clothes my hands touched are dirty, but another woman's underwear isn't?" I'd held it in until now, and I finally couldn't anymore. After I'd first suspected Rex was cheating, I'd gone through every one of his things I'd never even dared to touch. After seeing this, for the past few days all I saw when I closed my eyes was the sickening image of Rex and that therapist.

"A decent doctor uses her own underwear to treat a patient?"

"Enough," Rex snapped. "Simone is a professional. She's helped me a lot. Your hormones are unstable because of the pregnancy. You can take it out on me, but leave other people out of it."

"You shouldn't have gone rummaging through my things. I went for therapy for you and the baby, all of it."

I listened, and I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't get a single laugh out.