Chapter 7: Put-in-Bay

"How far along?" I asked.

My voice came out steady.

I don't know how.

Andrea smiled.

"Fourteen weeks. Due in March."

She brushed past me with the two duffels and went down the stairs.

At the front door she turned.

"Don't worry. Max's going to be a great big brother."

The door shut behind her.

I stood in Max's room and turned the zoo picture back up.

Then I sat on his bed and counted on my fingers.

Fourteen weeks back from the middle of September.

Early June.

Our anniversary was June 8.

I had booked a lake cottage on Put-in-Bay for four nights. I paid for the ferry and the golf cart.

On the morning of June 7, Jason's phone rang during breakfast.

A flooring emergency, he said. A commercial job, a whole lobby with the wrong grout.

He kissed me and took the first ferry back.

He came back to the island on the ninth with a bottle of wine and a sunburn.

He said the job had taken two full days.

I spent our first anniversary alone on a porch, reading.

That night I opened the screen recording I had emailed myself from his phone.

I went through it frame by frame, looking for June 7.

There was nothing in the chat that day.

Just a photo from his sister on June 8.

Andrea at Pamela's kitchen counter, holding a glass of sparkling water and a slice of cake.

"Somebody's glowing," his sister had written.

Our anniversary.

I closed the laptop.

Then I picked up my phone and typed a message to Jason.

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