Carolyn grinned while Gene pulled the cork on a bottle of Riesling he had grabbed from the fridge, correctly assuming that Carolyn was unfamiliar with wine, and would thus probably prefer something sweet. He poured a glassful, handed it to her, and made a toast.

“Merry Christmas, you two. I’m happy to have you both.” He didn’t look at either of us, and instead stared at some abstract point between our glasses, then took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Happy to be here,” I said.

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

We drank. Gene handed Carolyn a dark apron. She lifted it over her head and I tied it in the back for her.

“How late did you stay last night?” I asked Gene.

“Until Sam kicked us out, close to midnight.”

“Not bad,” I said. Carolyn and I had gone ice-skating at Millennium Park, which is where I bought the ankle bracelet, and on the way back we met Gene at the Lamplighter for free drinks but we were both tired and only stayed for one.

I watched them cook for a while, and when I realized I’d do little more than stand there with my dick in my hand, I ran downstairs to grab the book. Thomas sat regally on the bed watching me. I patted him on the head and he began to purr. I swiped the book from the desk, and just before I walked out, Carolyn’s phone rang atop the nightstand. I looked at the caller ID. It read JIMMY. I held the phone until it stopped ringing. A knot formed in my chest, and even though I knew I’d be breaking some unspeakable bond of trust, I had to know if there were other calls. I opened the phone. From the past week alone, there were four calls from Jimmy, all of them missed. I would have been satisfied with that, but my eyes were drawn to something else, the call to Jimmy, three days ago, while I was at work. They had talked for seventeen minutes.

I sat on the bed with the phone in my lap. My face was flushed. I lifted the phone and checked her text messages. There were none, not even the ones I had sent over the past week and a half, which could only mean she made it a habit of deleting all messages, and not just the frivolous ones. Was there significance behind it? It didn’t really matter, because all I could picture was Jimmy with his pencil mustache and baggy clothes and pockmarked face oil-rigging the girl with whom I now shared my home.

The phone beeped; one new voicemail. I didn’t know Carolyn’s password but if I did there’s no doubting I would have checked it. Thomas rolled to his side and swatted at my arm. I was in no mood to play with him.