At the top of the landing I pointed to each of the doors as we walked by. “This is mine, the one on the left is the spare. That’s the bathroom, and this one’s the main bedroom. You took it after...after...Brad died.”

Ash didn’t reply, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he flicked on the light and stepped inside the room. It was exactly as it had been the day he’d left. A double bed with a blue-and-white-striped duvet cover. A wooden clock he’d made and a cluster of family photos on the wall, my favorite a selfie of the two of us he’d taken when we’d gone snowtubing one winter, our cheeks and noses pink from the cold. Ash had never been one for clutter, and his bedside table was bare, save for a digital alarm clock, a blue lamp and a deck of cards. The only other items were his refurbished wooden desk and the empty chair standing in front of it. I walked to the closet and pulled it open, revealing a few pairs of folded pants, T-shirts and sweaters.

“You’ll find something in here. They’ll still fit you, I’m sure. I’ll set a towel and a toothbrush out in the bathroom for you. Your old razor is in the cabinet.”

When Ash didn’t reply I couldn’t stop myself from closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around him, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. I’d have hugged him forever if he’d let me. “I’m glad you’re home,” I whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

“Good night,” he said, taking a step back as he extricated himself from my grip, looking at me as if he might give my hand a neighborly shake. “And, uh, thank you. For everything.”

I retreated downstairs, listening to the water running as I cleared the table, washed the dishes and wiped the counter. When the shower turned off, I waited awhile before creeping back upstairs, hovering at the top of the landing, out of sight as Ash walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. I watched as he headed down the hallway, droplets of water glistening on his smooth, naked back. He’d always been handsome, and he hadn’t changed much, not physically at least. If anything, he’d gained muscle, particularly on his arms and shoulders, which, I noticed as I craned my neck to get a better glimpse, were even broader now. As he disappeared into his room I wondered again where he’d been the past two years, and with whom. Now he was back, what would happen next?

9

MAYA