Chapter 6: The Tin

Colin's hand moved from my hip to my waist.

"Relax," he whispered. "This is what married people do."

He kissed my mouth.

It was the first real kiss of our marriage, and it was a closed, careful kiss.

I lay there and counted ceiling tiles in my head.

His fingers slid under my pajama top and rested on my ribs.

My skin did nothing. My pulse did nothing.

This was the man I had sworn to love, with his hands on my body.

I felt bored.

Then I thought of two bare fingers on my collarbone, and my whole body flared awake in the dark.

Colin felt it. He thought it was for him.

"There she is," he said hoarsely, and pushed up my top.

I caught his wrist.

"Stop."

"Pam..."

"I don't want this, Colin. Not like this."

For a second, I thought he would argue.

His breath was quick. His hand shook against my skin, and I knew it wasn't desire.

It was fear.

Then he pulled away and rolled onto his back.

"Fine," he said to the ceiling. "Fine. Take your time."

He went back to the guest room.

I lay awake until the window turned gray.

Monday evening at six, I took the stairs to forty-seven, because Quincy's text had said the elevators had cameras.

It was only three flights up from my own floor, and my legs were shaking when I reached the top.

Quincy opened the glass door himself.

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