Page 47 (1/2)

He’s stopped staying up until two every morning watching Netflix on his iPad.

He never calls her Dani anymore.

He wants her constantly, and it’s like their first time every time.

He looks at her with a smoldering intensity that reminds her of the way new lovers stare into each other’s eyes when there’s still so much mystery and uncharted territory to discover.

These thoughts, all these tiny realizations, acc.u.mulate in the back of her mind as Daniela stands in front of the mirror next to Jason.

It’s morning, and they’re getting ready for their respective days.

She’s brus.h.i.+ng her teeth, he’s brus.h.i.+ng his, and when he catches her staring at him, he gives a toothpaste-foamy grin and winks.

She wonders—

Does he have cancer and isn’t telling me?

Is he taking a new antidepressant and isn’t telling me?

Lost his job and isn’t telling me?

A sick, hot feeling erupts in the pit of her stomach: is he having an affair with one of his students and it’s her that’s making him feel and act like this brand-new man?

No. None of that feels right.

The thing is, nothing is obviously wrong.

On paper, they’re actually better. He’s paying her more attention than he ever has. They haven’t talked and laughed this much since the beginning of their relations.h.i.+p.

It’s just that he’s…different.

Different in a thousand tiny ways that might mean nothing and might mean everything.

Jason leans over and spits into the sink.

He turns off the faucet and steps around behind her and puts his hands on her hips and pushes up gently against her.

She watches his reflection in the mirror.

Thinking, What secrets are you keeping?

Wanting to say those words.

Those exact words.

But she keeps brus.h.i.+ng, because what if the price tag on that answer is this amazing status quo?

He says, “I could just watch you do this all day.”

“Brush my teeth?” She garbles the words, the toothbrush still in her mouth.

“Uh-huh.” He kisses the back of her neck, and the s.h.i.+ver goes down her spine and into her knees, and for a split second it all falls away—the fear, the questions, the doubt.

He says, “Ryan Holder is giving a lecture tonight at six. You want to come with me?”

Daniela leans over, spits, rinses.

“I’d love to, but I have a lesson at five thirty.”

“Then can I take you to dinner when I get home?”

“I’d love that.”

She turns around and kisses him.

He even kisses differently now.

Like it’s an event, every time.

As he starts to pull away, she says, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

She should ask.

She should bring up all these things she’s noticed.

Throw it all down and clear the air.