The next morning he watched her sleep in the bed he shared with his wife, her lips opened partway, drool escaping through them as she breathed in, out. He wanted to stick his finger into that little wedge of an opening, have her suck it, make his fingertips dewy with her saliva. But he stopped himself, heaved himself out of bed as quietly as he could. He would do what kind, attentive men on overnight dates do and get her food; he’d done it himself once upon a time. Before Peri, before Odilie.

When he returned, they lay back in bed together nude, egg yolk sliding onto the sheets between them, everything bagel seasoning getting caught in the pillowcases. He nibbled at her lip, licked the smear of avocado by the side of her nose and she made a noise, a small tickle at the back of her throat, nestled herself closer to him and he couldn’t help but kiss her, on her eyelids, her nose, her lips. He felt himself swooning over her, getting buried under her presence, slowly but surely. It was like Peri all over again. Intoxicated until he wasn’t. Until he found Odilie and she seemed like exactly what he needed: sturdy, docile, predictable.

“What scares you?” she asked suddenly, peering up at him, staring at him with unblinking eyes.

He shifted his arm, so it was wrapped around her torso, snaking its way to the small of her back. “Nothing. I’m scared of nothing.” He let it roll out without thinking, and he knew by the way she tensed, so very slightly arched her back, that he had said the wrong thing. That the Tom he had only recently decided to conceal was rearing its ugly head.

“I mean, I’m scared of my loved ones getting hurt. My daughter.” And he checked himself, that instinctive, primal part of himself. There was a pang at the thought of losing Penelope, dull and throbbing buried deep in his bone marrow, some kind of biological vestige. This child he hadn’t wanted, this child whom he barely knew, whom he hadn’t taken the time to get to know. Made especially apparent by the unfortunate bathtub incident.

But Vera, she pushed his chest a little, giving herself room to cock her head and look at him. “You’re lying, aren’t you? And that’s okay. I asked for a reason.” She settled back down, her cheek resting on a pillowcase, gazing up at him. “You know what I’m afraid of?” She entangled her fingers in his chest hair. “I’m afraid of losing my power, what I’ve built myself into. My career. Of being so powerless, so awfully debased that I lose belief in myself. That I lose myself.”