“Why are there skulls all over your dress?” he asked her. There were dozens of them. Hundreds. Little tiny skeletons. All just staring at him. He heard them giggle then realized it was Jules.

“Skulls?” she said. “These are snowflakes.”

God, Henry thought. Pull it together. Pull it the fuck together. He forced a fake laugh.

“Guess I’m due for a trip to the eye doctor.”

“Look, I understand what’s going on,” Jules said.

“No,” Henry said. “I don’t think you do.”

“You’re nervous about going back to the house.”

Henry was instantly flooded with terror. How could she know? In one of their late-night office conversations, had he slipped up and told her and somehow forgot? It wouldn’t have been the first time he forgot something so monumental and life altering. Although what was his excuse in this case, without booze?

“You’re worried about seeing your first house. That you’re going to be disappointed by it. And that when faced with all the time that has passed since … you’ll feel old. Skulls? I’m no psychologist, but it seems pretty easy to guess what that means.”

Henry laughed, relieved. Yet what she said made a lot of sense. She was wise, not just smart.

“I, for one, am excited,” she said. “I can’t wait to see the house, Henry.” She rarely said his name, and he felt a small thrill. “I’ve heard so much about it, driven past it, seen all the pictures. I’m sure they don’t do it justice. I’m so grateful to have the chance.”

And he was grateful she would be there. Buoyed by her presence and her enthusiasm, he might be able to get through this night.

He would do everything that Claudine wanted. He would smile. He would lead Zara on a tour, pointing out unique attributes of the house. As he had done so many times over the years, he would play the brilliant architect for the night. And then tomorrow he would quit. How hard could it be to pretend everything was fine for, what, a couple hours? Make Claudine happy. Sell the house. Sell it and never, ever, ever, ever think of it again. It was a good plan. It was the only plan.

“I also can’t wait to see your Secret Santa gift,” Jules said. “I bet it’s lavish.”

“Don’t say ‘lavish,’” Henry said. “That’s a Claudine word.”

Jules smiled but then stopped. Henry wasn’t kidding. There was a severe look on his face. He didn’t want any part of Claudine rubbing off on Jules.