Chapter 2

Tessa was barefoot in my kitchen when I came back on Friday morning. She wore Graham's gray T-shirt, the one I'd borrowed for most of my pregnancy. In her hand was the blue coffee mug my aunt had given me before our wedding. “Oh, Ellie.” She glanced at my hospital bag. “I thought you were staying with Maya.” “I came for my things.” A suitcase stood by the coat rack. Tessa's heels lay beneath it. My wedding photograph had been shoved behind a lamp to make room for her lip gloss and keys. “Graham asked me to stay last night,” she said. “My ex came by the building. I didn't feel safe.” “You could have stayed in the guest room.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should probably speak to Graham about that.” I went upstairs. Our son's washed clothes were in a laundry basket outside the nursery. I'd sorted them by size on Wednesday, sitting on the floor because I couldn't stand for long. The smallest sleepers had tiny blue stars on the sleeves. Inside, Tessa's makeup covered the changing table, a folding mattress stood beside the crib, and my nursing pillow lay under her bag. Her wet red swimsuit hung over the crib rail, staining the white sheet pink. I lifted the swimsuit with two fingers. It smelled of chlorine and her perfume. We'd tested that mattress together. Graham had smiled when our son kicked beneath his palm and said he couldn't wait to see him sleep there. Now Tessa's swimsuit hung where his blanket should have been. “Put it down,” Graham said from the doorway. “I'll deal with that.” I turned to him. “Why is she sleeping in our baby's room?” “There's coaching equipment in the guest room. This was easier.” “Easier for whom?” “The baby's not here yet.” “Move your equipment,” I said. “She can use the guest room until she finds another place. The nursery is not available.” “Elena, she's had a frightening night. Can you show a little compassion?” A tightening crossed my lower abdomen. I held the dresser until it passed. He saw me grip the wood. “You're getting yourself worked up again. Sit down.” “I am asking you to move her things.” Tessa appeared behind him. “I can go to a hotel if I’m causing a problem.” “You're not going anywhere,” Graham said immediately. He hadn't answered me that quickly once last night. Tessa reached into her purse, and an orange ribbon swung from her key ring. My aunt had tied that ribbon around the spare key when she gave it to me years before she died. I knew every frayed thread. “Where did you get that?” I asked. Tessa covered the ribbon with her hand. “I gave her the key,” Graham said. “She needs to get in while I'm working.” “This was my aunt's key.” “It's our house, Elena.” “She left the house to me. You didn't even ask.” “You would've said no.” “Yes.” I held out my hand to Tessa. “I'd like it back.” She looked at Graham instead of me. He stepped between us. “Stop treating her like a thief.” I stared at my husband's back. He was shielding a woman in his shirt while his pregnant wife stood beside a crib stained by her swimsuit. I took photographs instead: the suitcase, the wedding picture, the baby clothes in the hall, the stained sheet, and the orange ribbon hanging from Tessa's keys. Graham watched me. “Are you really documenting this?” “Yes.” “Over a place to sleep?” “Over what you took without asking.” At the front door, Graham called, “Are you going to Maya's again?” “I'm going somewhere I don't have to ask permission to use my own baby's room.” “I'll come to your appointment this afternoon,” he said. “We'll talk afterward.” I waited for him to mention the key. He didn't. His phone rang. Tessa glanced at the screen, and he turned back toward her. Outside, I sat in the driver's seat until my breathing slowed. Then I sent the photographs to Maya. I wrote: Please prepare the divorce petition. I don't want him warned before I'm ready to file. Her answer came almost immediately. First, make sure you and the baby have access to money. Check your accounts.