“I just want to do what’s right for Jonah.” She props a pillow against the headboard and gets back in bed, sitting upright with her knees drawn to her chest and a blanket wrapped around her feet. “What do you think of him?”

“Of Jonah?” What a strange question.

“No, of Nick.”

I scratch my belly and answer to the best of my ability. “I don’t think much of him.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think badly of him. I just don’t think about him. I haven’t given him much thought, period. How’s that?”

“Hm.” She drapes her forearms around her shins and stares at the ceiling fan.

The sun has cleared the horizon, and the safe in-betweenness of dawn is behind us. I’m not much for reliving fights in broad daylight. What’s done is done. It’s not yet five thirty, and it’s Sunday, and Elizabeth’s robe is falling open above the sash tied in a bow at her waist, so I move toward the bed and stand over her, just as she stood over me minutes ago, and I wrap my fingers around one loose end of satin and I pull, undoing the knot. She lets go of her legs, so I slide them toward the foot of the bed until she is laid out long in front of me. Her eyes are closed, and her skin is warm and velvet soft when I slip my fingers under silk and press my palm against her ribs. I bring my mouth to her body. With one finger, I strip off my boxers before climbing on top of my wife, and I spit in my hand out of habit, but there was no need. She is ready for me. I find her warmest place, and we find our rhythm, and we follow it, chase it with tremendous heat. Her eyes are still closed, but mine are open, so I get to watch the surprise broadcast on her face when, for only the third time in over a decade of sleeping together, she climaxes from penetration alone.

She feels incredible, beyond, so I come too, and only when the mad rush has passed do I take note of another thing I can count on one hand: simultaneous orgasms—and this time I’m certain she’s not faking.

When we are entirely finished, when the aftershocks clear our systems completely, I collapse on top of her body. Dead weight. We lay like this until I guess I fall asleep, because she nudges my back the way she does when I start snoring. So I kiss her forehead and her stomach, and I head to the bathroom to take a long shower. It’s an excellent shower. When I get out, a cup of coffee (cream, no sugar) is by the sink. I hadn’t even felt a draft when the door must have opened and closed.