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We knew the house was ours the moment we stepped over the threshold.

It had belonged to an old couple. The wife had died first, then the husband, and their two kids were trying to sell it as fast as humanly possible, if only to get on with their respective lives.

It was for sale by the owner, and because of the rush in our own situation, everyone cooperated to get things handled quickly.

Two months after our offer was accepted, the keys were in our hands, and the house was officially ours, and, oh, it was beautiful.

Modest in size—four bedrooms, one full bathroom, and a powder room—but with a waterfront view from the back deck that more than made up for the lackluster size of the bedrooms.

The place needed updating. It looked old and smelled like it too.

The appliances hadn’t been replaced since the ‘80s, and the shag carpet in the living room had been worn down to the backing in some areas, making the living room look like a balding dog. We had our work cut out for us, and the amount of money we’d be dumping into the old house was enough to make me dizzy.

But I could see the lighthouse from every back window, and with a view like that, I would’ve agreed to live in a cardboard box. The water settled my mind and calmed my anxiety, nearly as much as Laura did, and with both in my life, I was destined to be relieved of my demons forever.

At five months pregnant, Laura had finally started to feel good after a first trimester of constant nausea and an almost-complete inability to sleep.

She had an appetite again—and not just for food.

The sex was constant; she seemed unable to be near me at all without tearing my clothes off, and I couldn’t say I minded—even if the unpredictability of her emotions was keeping me and the girls on thin ice.

One night, after Lizzie and Jane had been put to bed and I brought Laura to orgasm twice with my tongue, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up with a startling amount of strength.

“I need to fuck you now ,” she commanded, spreading her legs wider to accommodate the width of my hips.

I didn’t have time to reply before she aligned our bodies and guided me in.

“God, where did you learn how to use your mouth like that?” she asked, kissing my neck.

It was a trick question, one not meant to be answered.

In our recent years together, we hadn’t talked much about the time we’d spent apart, and I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to start in the middle of sex …

or when she was known to scream about my dirty socks on the floor or cry hysterically over a box of stale Cheerios.

So, I didn’t answer and turned my head to capture her mouth with mine, but she pressed her fingers to my lips, stopping me from coming closer.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she accused.

I stilled the movements of my hips and looked at her warily. “I mean this in the nicest, most respectful way possible. Do you really want to do this right now?”

In an instant, she looked as though I’d slapped her across the face, and I quickly backpedaled.

“Babe, what does it matter? Why are you even …”

From the look on her face, I was still saying the wrong thing, and I raked a hand over my chin as the mood for sex dispelled quicker than smoke in a heavy wind.

Laura shifted beneath me, sending the message that she was done, and I rolled away to lie on my side of the bed. She turned her back to me, wrapping her arm around her rounded belly, and I squeezed my eyes shut and suppressed a sigh.

Don’t let her be upset , my mind told me, but how the hell was I supposed to fix it when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong?

I laid my hand on her bare shoulder and ran my fingers lazily up and down her soft, smooth skin. “Babe … Laura …”

“I’m so stupid,” she whispered, and I realized she was crying.

“What? No, you’re not. Why are you saying that? ”

“I don’t know why I thought …” She sobbed, and I kissed the back of her neck. “I-I thought you had only been with m-me.”

I leaned forward to rest my forehead against her shoulder. “Oh,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say.

“I know. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“Okay, fine. I’m delusional ,” she said, sniffling loudly. “Why the hell did I spend years thinking you had spent all that time completely celibate? Like, what kind of moron am I?”

I didn’t mean to laugh, but I couldn’t stop the gentle chuckle that rumbled against her back. “Babe, you’re not a moron.”

“Don’t be nice to me,” she scolded before sobbing again. “You were probably screwing women while you were away, then coming back just to screw me, and—"

“No,” I said quickly, lifting up on my elbow to look down at her. “No, that’s not at all how it was.”

She turned to look up at me, a bit hesitant at first, but … there she was. Tear-filled eyes met mine as she said, “No?”

I shook my head. “I hadn’t even thought to look at another woman until you told me you were with someone else. From high school until that phone call, you were the only one.”

Her eyes searched mine for the truth, her lips parted when she must’ve found it, and she said, “You're serious?”

“Very.”

She reluctantly smiled. “Wow. You really did love me. ”

“So much, babe. So fucking much.”

She nodded and scooted backward to press herself to my chest. She grabbed my hand from her shoulder to press her lips to my knuckles.

And then she asked, “So, who was the first one you looked at?”

I barked with a laugh. “Oh, Jesus Christ … it’s like you want to hate me right now.”

“No, I don’t! Seriously! You said you hadn’t thought about looking at another woman until we were over, so … what was her name? Do you remember?”

She was teasing me now, laughing and wiggling her ass against my rapidly responding dick, but I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to think about her . That enigmatic woman from the past. I didn’t want to think about anyone else right now but my wife .

But the truth, the pathetic and sad truth, was that I had never forgotten about Melanie or the strange, otherworldly connection I’d felt with her.

It had been unlike anything I’d experienced with anyone else.

And maybe it made me an asshole to keep that from Laura, but it didn’t matter, did it?

It never really did, and it mattered less now. But … still …

It felt sacred somehow. A few nice, inconsequential hours spent with the only other woman I’d ever felt anything for.

And I was all of a sudden scared that my wife—my very pregnant wife—might sense that long-ago crush in my voice and get upset all over again.

She might see the memory of Melanie as a threat, even if she wasn’t one, and I didn’t want her to believe something that wasn’t true .

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all.

Maybe I just wanted that one secret—much like the secrets I never wanted to know about her time with her ex-husband—and I saw nothing wrong with that.

So, I smiled against her shoulder and shook my head.

“It was so long ago,” I said. “And it doesn’t matter now.”