I gave a lazy smirk. “What if my reason has changed? What if I just wanted to touch you for pure animalistic reasons?”

“I would tell you I have no wish to participate in such activities.”

“Liar.”

A blush. She was aroused, I could see it in her eyes. “I’m not lying.”

“My dear wife, you do not lie so well. Your body betrays you. Even now I can see your very erect nipples straining against your shirt.” I lean in closer and let out a raspy whisper, “Do you want me to suck on them? Maybe bit on them a little. From there, I would kiss my way downward. Lazily glide my hands up your thighs…” I trail off, watching the rapid rise and fall of Brooke’s chest as she panted with lust.

“J-J-Just because my body wants something doesn’t mean my h-h-heart wants it,” she said in a breathy voice.

It was a conundrum of a sentence, giving me pause. That pause was long enough for Brooke to collect herself. She stood, bid me good night, and fled the room.

*****

I scrub at my jaw and head toward the rooftop. She did, in fact, lock her door. I do not know why it was so important for me to check. Or why I could not get that thought out of my head: she locked her door! Not only did she lock her door that first time but before every one of these impromptu trips.

As I board the helicopter to take me back home, I have decided I was done with this nonsense. Brooke is my wife, at least for the next three months, and she damn well is going to talk to me and be civil with me. No more of this ducking into her bedroom for the eight hours I am home. No more pushing her dinner around for five minutes then declaring she is tired and going to bed. I have a twelve-hour flight to stew over this, and I intend to use every minute doing so.

Brooke

Trying to make a dollhouse is a lot harder than I anticipated. Being seven months pregnant, I get tired standing over my worktable after about twenty minutes. My back aches all the time, and my huge belly seems to get in the way of everything. It is a toy farmhouse rather than a dollhouse. We still have not found out the sex of the baby, and I do not think I want to know. I think it will make it easier for me to walk away. So I buy everything in neutral colors, and get toys for both genders. The pregnancy seems to have flown by. Maybe I only think that because I know what looms at the end. It is not that I fear my death, only that I do not feel like I have prepared enough, left enough for my child, enough art pieces he or she could one day look at and see how much I loved them.