Chapter 23: The Bathroom Door

The bathroom door was the first thing in the whole house that Willem had painted.

It was a deep green, with a new brass knob, and it was open an inch.

"This is the one she locked herself in," I said.

"For forty minutes."

"It's pretty."

"I did the tile Thursday night," he said. "I couldn't sleep."

He stood behind me in the hall in his work jeans and a gray T-shirt, with plaster dust in his hair and a smear of grout on his jaw.

I pushed the door open.

The clawfoot tub sat under the window, white and huge, with steam already rising off the water.

There were plain white candles on the sill, the kind you keep in a drawer for a power cut.

Two folded towels sat on the lid of the toilet.

"You did all this since eleven?"

"I started the water when you texted that you were on your way."

I turned around.

"Willem."

"Mm."

"Close the door."

He closed it.

I took hold of the hem of my sweater and pulled it up over my head.

I dropped it on the new tile, and I unhooked my bra with one hand while he watched.

He didn't touch me.

His eyes went over every inch of my skin as it came off, and his breath went uneven.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

He reached back and dragged it over his head.

I put both palms flat on his chest and felt his heart slam against my hand.

"Not for him," I said.

"Not for anyone."

"Not for a week."

"No," he said.

I undid his belt.

We got into the water together, and it was so hot that I gasped, and he pulled me back against his chest with one arm around my waist.

The tub was long enough for both of us.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he reached for a cup and poured warm water over my hair.

He washed it.