Chapter 3

Adrian came home at eleven on Christmas morning. Snow on his shoulders. Cold on his coat. A shopping bag in one hand. "Merry Christmas, beautiful." He kissed my cheek. He smelled of pine and woodsmoke and, underneath it, a perfume I now recognized. "I got you something." A gray cashmere scarf. Soft. Expensive. Impersonal. I folded the tissue paper back and found the receipt stuck to the bottom of the bag. Two items. The scarf. And a diamond tennis bracelet for eighteen thousand dollars. I wasn't wearing any diamonds. "It's beautiful," I said. "Thank you." He didn't notice the baby sweater under the tree. I'd moved it to the back of my closet at four in the morning. We ate brunch. He scrolled his phone. I pushed eggs around my plate and studied him like a stranger. The straight nose. The gray eyes. The same eyes I'd seen on a little boy lifting a star. "Adrian." I set my fork down. "What if we had a baby this year?" He went still. Just for a moment. "We've talked about this, Nora." Patient. Soft. The voice he used when I was being unreasonable. "Your body needs to be ready. That's why the doctor put you on the prenatal regimen." He stood, went to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of water and two small white pills. The same ritual every single morning for five years. Two pills. A glass of water. A kiss on my forehead. "Take your vitamins," he said. I used to think it was the most romantic thing a man had ever done for me. I took them from his palm. Put them in my mouth. Sipped the water. When he turned back to his phone, I spat them into my napkin. That night, he fell asleep fast, one arm flung across the pillow. His phone lay on the nightstand, charging. I lifted it. Gently took his hand. Pressed his thumb to the screen. Unlocked. There was a folder labeled Utilities. Inside, a messaging app I'd never seen. One contact. V. I read everything. V: Eleanor wants Theo announced as heir at the New Year's gala. She's finally changing the trust. Adrian: She won't sign unless Nora is there. Spousal waiver clause. Grandfather's rule. V: Then bring her. She'll sign anything you put in front of her. Adrian: She will. V: And you're sure there's no chance she gets pregnant? One Blackwood baby from her and Theo is out. Everything we built is out. Adrian: Relax. She takes them every morning. From my hand. The screen blurred. From my hand. I scrolled up. Years of messages. Photos of Theo's first steps. Theo's first day of preschool. A video of Adrian teaching him to swim while I thought he was in Singapore on business. Vivian writing, Our little family. Adrian writing back, Always. I put the phone down exactly where it had been. Then I walked to the kitchen in bare feet. The bottle sat on the counter where it always sat. White, with a friendly green label. PRENATAL COMPLETE. Folic acid. Iron. Vitamin D. I ran my nail along the edge of the label. It peeled too easily. Like it had been stuck on by hand. Underneath was a second label. A pharmacy label. NORETHINDRONE 0.35 MG. TAKE ONE TABLET DAILY. I didn't know the word. But I knew enough to know it wasn't a vitamin. My hand went to my stomach. In November, I'd had the flu. Two weeks in bed, too nauseous to swallow anything. Adrian had been in London. For fourteen days, nobody put pills in my palm. Fourteen days. That was all it took. Fourteen days without his hand in my mouth. And our baby found a way in.