Then the scrape of luggage wheels.
I thought he was putting the suitcase away.
Instead, Adrian came downstairs carrying it.
I stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
My brain genuinely refused to understand him.
“For what?”
He set the suitcase down.
“The ship leaves Friday.”
For a moment, I thought perhaps pregnancy hormones had affected my hearing.
“You’re going?”
“Claire, please.”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“You’re going?”
He dragged both hands over his face.
“I already arranged everything.”
“So cancel it.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple.”
He started pacing.
“This trip was supposed to be something good.”
I looked at my stomach.
“And these babies aren’t?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It sounded very close.”
He sat opposite me.
“You know how much pressure I’ve been under.”
I laughed once.
“Your doctor did not just tell you that getting up too often could put three babies at risk.”
“Don’t make it a competition.”
“I’m not.”
He leaned forward.
“Maybe getting away would help me clear my head before everything changes.”
I stared.
“Before everything changes?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“I really don’t.”
His voice rose.
“Triplets are huge, Claire.”
“Yes.”
“For you and me.”
“Yes.”
“For our marriage.”
