There’s a quip on the end of my tongue about him trying to assuage some guilt for taking so long with my edits, but it dies there. All I can muster as I stand on shaky legs is an equally shaky, “Okay.”

He’s at my side in a flash with an arm around me for support. I don’t really need his help to walk the five steps to the bathroom, but I lean into him anyway. Even if it is a thinly-veiled excuse to feel the hard planes of his body pressed into mine.

When we get inside the bathroom, he takes a step back into the hallway. “Kick your pajamas out when you’re ready. I’m going to throw them in the laundry.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“I want to,” he replies quickly. “Besides, your kitchen towels stink.”

“Is that where the smell is coming from? Glad it’s not me,” I joke. He laughs lightly, and for a moment we both stare at each other, not quite sure what to do and both afraid to make the first move.

He blinks rapidly as he snaps back to his senses and steps out of my view.

Okay, then.

Leaving the door open a sliver, I shed my satin pajamas. These things have seen better days, that’s for sure. I’m not sure I could identify the stains on them anymore. I kick them out into the hallway, then lower myself into the tub.

Ryan wasn’t kidding. There are a lot of bubbles, and the water is almost scalding, which is exactly how I like it. I’m touched he remembered such a simple detail.

The idea of a baptism pops into my head. It’s a great symbol, though it does get used fairly often. But it’s nice to think that your sins and worries can be washed away with some water. Worth a shot, I think as I plug my nose and dunk my head under. When I come up, I don’t feel any better than I did before, though my face thanks me for this bare minimum of cleanliness. I can’t remember the last time I washed my face, either. Dianne would shake her head in dismay if she knew. That’s one of the things she urges me to do every day, even if I don’t feel like it. Oops.

I hear the laundry machine start through the wall, and I relax against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes and letting the heat of the water and the rhythmic whirring of the machine lull me into something close to peace.