“Not today. I have all the time in the world, today. Especially for you.” He puts his hands on his hips, arching his back a little. Squints up at the sky. Sunlight glints in his dark golden hair, picking up the hints of silver. He looks at me again. “What time does Ken get home?”

I won’t tell Christian that I’m not sure. “Listen, don’t you dare throw anything else away without asking me first. Do you understand?”

Christian looks perplexed. “But … it’s literal garbage, Jewelann.”

“And I told you, that’s not for you to decide.”

“Fine.” He eyes me. “Is it valuable?”

“It’s … sentimental. Not that it’s any of your business,” I add.

“Maybe I’m a little sentimental about it too. Especially that couch. Did you ever think of that?”

I shift from foot to foot. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He sounds innocent and affronted.

“Don’t pretend I ever meant anything to you.”

He gives me a black look. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t have to think anything, Christian. I know it. I was that sure thing, the one you could always come back to, but not what you ever really wanted. So don’t try to convince me that somehow, after all this time, it’s different.”

Christian moves closer again. “Yeah, you were what I always came back to. Didn’t you ever think about why?”

“Not because … never because …”

His kiss lands on the corner of my mouth because I’ve turned my face away. He tries again, more insistent this time, but I push at his chest to get him to step back. He grabs my upper arm, resisting, and I think, He won’t let me go this time, but he does.

“Stop it. The neighbors will see—”

“Nobody can see us back here.”

“I’m married.”

“You’re miserable,” he says.

I push him again, unsteady on my own feet. “Sleeping with you won’t change that, Christian.”

“It might change a lot of things, if you’d let it.” He steps back but remains close enough to grab me again, if he wants.

“The only thing that would change is that my husband would leave me, and if Ken decides to leave me, I can’t afford to keep the house.”

“So, you’ll get another one.”

As if it were that easy.

“I love this house.”

“I meant another husband.” Christian winks.

“I love him too,” I say. “And I love my son. I’m not going to disrupt his life by tearing apart his family or making him move from his childhood home or change schools. I won’t do anything to risk messing up his life, and that certainly includes losing the only home he’s ever known.”

Christian laughs. “You think Kenny boy has a statute of limitations on fucking around? You were married back then, too. You think he’ll really care that it was a long time ago?”

I’ve been doing nothing but grabbing at the rapidly unraveling threads of my marriage for years. It’s as fragile and delicate as old lace. It would take very little to shred it completely.