Ann didn’t feel like a grown-up. She snuck a longer look at Anthony in the mirror. She’d expected him to be preppy, like the grown-up dads in yacht club shirts and madras shorts she’d met when she picked the boys up in Chatham. They had receding hairlines and potbellies. He was nothing like that. He was sturdy and strong. He wasn’t very tall, probably shorter than Maureen, but he took up space as if he were a bigger man. He had dark brown hair and a clipped, manicured beard that accentuated the bluntness of his features. His nose was short and thick and looked like it had just been punched, and his chin was perfectly square. His cheekbones were so pronounced that they were practically shelves for his eyes—eyes that stared appreciatively at Ann’s reflection in the mirror.

“Is that yours?” he asked, pointing at Maureen’s dress on the bed.

She shook her head no. Of course it wasn’t hers. He knew that. “It’s your wife’s.”

The word “wife” hung in the air between them, awkward and even a little sexy. Ann tried to convince herself that the wife wasn’t Maureen, but the idea of a wife.

“Tell me, do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The dress.”

“I guess so.” What did it matter what she thought of it? “Look, I should go.”

“No, no. You like it. You should try it on. That’s what you were going to do, right? Don’t let me get in the way. Let’s see it on you.”

“I can’t.”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie, revealing a prominent Adam’s apple. “I told you, it’s fine.”

“I shouldn’t have come in here.”

“Leave it to me to tell you where you should and shouldn’t be in my own home. Look, I understand. You were bored. Tell you what: I get bored here, too. Bored senseless.” He slurred the last word, so it sounded like a blur of s’s. She wondered if he’d been drinking.

“I should go get the boys. Their lessons will be over soon.”

“You have time. Go ahead, try it on. It’ll only take a few seconds. Come on, indulge me. Let’s see if you’re as pretty in pink as I think you’ll be.”

“Can you … can you look away? Please?”

“No, Ann. I honestly can’t.” That was the first time she’d ever heard her name said that way, or the ache of desire in a man’s voice, a real grown man’s voice. It scared her, but it also turned her on. She felt like she’d gained access into a world that had previously been forbidden.