Chapter 6: The Kitchen

Warren came home at six and found the hole in my wall.

I'd left it open on purpose.

He stopped in my doorway with his keys still in his hand.

I watched him look at the square of pink insulation, the sawdust on the floor and the rumpled bed.

He didn't say anything.

He turned around and walked down the stairs.

I followed him into the kitchen.

He put his keys on the counter and opened the refrigerator.

He stood there with the door open like he'd forgotten what he'd come for.

"Caleb says you wouldn't let him fix it," I said.

"He told you that."

"For five years you said no. Why?"

"Because it wasn't his house."

"It's yours."

"Yes."

"So why leave a wall that lets you hear everything?"

He shut the refrigerator.

"I built it badly. That's all."

"That's not all."

"It's the only answer I've got, Tessa."

His voice was flat, but there was a muscle jumping in his jaw.

I came around the island, and he stepped back until the counter stopped him.

I stood close enough to count the grey hairs at his temple.

"You leave the den door open on Fridays," I said. "Every Friday for fourteen months. On other nights you shut it."

"It gets hot in there."

"It gets hot every night."

He looked at the ceiling.

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