He didn’t go straight to the bathroom the next afternoon.
The spare key turned at 3:08. I heard the front door, then his boots moving through the hallway past the half-gutted master bath and into the bedroom. I was still in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing only the thin robe I’d thrown on after the shower I’d taken alone on purpose. My phone was already in my hand. Mark had texted twenty minutes earlier: Send me a wide shot of the bathroom today if you can. Want to see the full progress before my meetings.
Cole appeared in the kitchen doorway. Tool belt on. Eyes on the robe. He didn’t speak. He crossed the room, took the phone out of my hand, set it face-down on the counter, and pushed the robe off my shoulders. It pooled at my feet. Cool air hit my skin. He turned me, walked me backward u
