You’re the one who ditched her husband.
I didn’t ditch anyone. I survived him.
That’s the difference. And I don’t owe Leo—or anyone else—an explanation.
Still, I reach for MaryAnne’s binder again and flip to the section labeledFaculty Notes.
There, scrawled in the margins under Leo’s name:
• Brilliant but volatile. Don’t take it personally.
And in slightly darker ink below it:
• Keep chocolate in the drawer. Works better than logic.
• Random bouts of happy puppy behavior.
I exhale a laugh through my nose.
So, he’s in semi-permanent dementor recovery mode? Lovely.
And what the hell is happy puppy behavior?
TWO
TORI
Past
It’s5:30 a.m. when I slip out of bed, tiptoe across our bedroom, and shut the bathroom door behind me as quietly as possible.
The faint glow of the moon filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the cold tiles. Everything feels still, like the world is holding its breath alongside me.
This is it. This has to be it.
I’m two days late for my period—always a good sign when trying to conceive.
Sure, it could be stress-related, but no. No.
This is it. I can feel it.
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod, I cannot wait to finally see that PREGNANT result on the digital test screen.
I picture the word lighting up in bold, happy letters, a beacon of hope that will finally change everything. My heart races at the thought.
I’ll make Chase all of his favorite things for breakfast, careful not to overcook the bacon or undercook the eggs, and then sitacross from him at the table with a single cinnamon roll on my plate. Nothing else.
He’ll notice the differences in our plates—he will, won’t he? Yes, of course he will.
This is going to be perfect.
He’ll ask why I’m eating a cinnamon roll—more likely that he’ll ask why I didn’t give him a cinnamon roll.
Nope. No negativity.
He’ll just be curious. Only curious.
Not condemning. Not rude. Just curious.
