“You are mad,” Enzo notes.

I don’t know what his first clue was. Maybe the way I barely said a word as we walked home from the house next door, me carrying the apple pie because even after instructing me to bring dessert, Suzette had her chef go ahead and make some amazing chocolate soufflé. Maybe it was the way I slammed the refrigerator door as I shoved the uneaten pie inside. Or the way I stomped up the steps to our bedroom and shut the door behind me, only coming out to say good night to the kids.

“I will eat the apple pie,” he says as he crawls into bed beside me. “I love the apple pie. I don’t care if you dropped it on the floor.”

“I didn’t drop it on the floor.” “No?”

I groan. The fact that Enzo has no idea what I am upset about is making it hard to be mad. Also, he’s not wearing a shirt, which makes it even harder to be mad.

“Do you really have to work in Suzette’s backyard?” I say. He leans back against the pillows and sighs. “Oh. This.” “Well? Is it really necessary?”

“Why does that bother you?” “Because.”

“Because is not an answer,” he says, which is irritatingly something I say to the kids constantly.

“I just feel like Suzette has an agenda.” “Agenda?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “You know.” “I do not know.”

“Oh my God.” I flop over in bed. “Enzo, that woman was flirting with you shamelessly all night! She didn’t let up for a second!”

He clutches his chest in mock horror. “A woman flirting with me?

Ma va’! How can I possibly resist that?” I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay ”

“We will probably run off together.” “Okay.”

He grins at me. “I am flattered you worry. But, Millie, you know I would never ever look at another woman.”

“Oh really?”

“Really,” he says. “I would be stupid to cheat.” “Would you?”

“Oh, yes.” He flops on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “You are my wife. The mother of my children. I love you so much.”

“Okay ”

“Also,” he adds, “I know better than to double-cross you. I would like to keep breathing.”

I snort. “Yeah, right.”

“How can you say you’re worried about Suzette?” he retorts. “Suzette

she is the one who needs to worry.” “Ha ha, very funny.”

“I am not making a joke,” he says, although his lips twitch. “I am scared of you, Millie Accardi.”

I make a face at him. “Right. Like you’re Mr. Nice Guy.”

Truth be told, we have both done some pretty bad things. Unspeakable things, although I’d like to think they were all in the name of serving justice. But either way, if you made a tally, I would come out far ahead of my husband. I’ve done much worse things than he has. After all, he’s never done anything so bad that they took away his freedom.

But of course, that’s only the stuff I know about. I get the feeling that Enzo had a whole life back overseas that I don’t know about. I once worked up the nerve to ask him if he ever killed anyone, and he

laughed like I was making a joke, but he didn’t say no. And then he quickly found a way to change the subject.

I only asked the one time. Because after that, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Enzo runs a finger slowly along my jawline. “Millie ” he whispers.

I glance over my shoulder, at the window where moonlight pours into our bedroom. “When are you going to put in those blinds?”

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

I close my eyes, trying to enjoy the sensation of my husband’s touch and then his lips on my neck. But with my eyes closed, I become aware of something else. A sound from somewhere else in the house.

My eyes fly open. “Do you hear that?” I ask him. He lifts his head from my neck. “Hear what?” “That sound. It sounds like something scraping.”

It’s a very disturbing sound. It almost sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Again and again and again.

And it’s coming from somewhere within the house.

He grins at me. “Maybe is man with hook for hand on roof?” I smack the top of his head. “I’m serious! What is that?”

We both lie there for a moment, listening. And of course, that’s when the sound stops.

“I do not hear it,” Enzo says. “Well, it stopped.”

“Oh.”

“But what was it?”

“Was probably the house settling.”

“House settling?” I make a face at him. “That’s not a thing. You just made that up right now.”

“Yes, is a thing. And anyway, are you the big expert on houses?

Houses make noises. It is a house noise. No big deal.”

I’m not sure I agree, but at the same time, I can’t very well argue now that the noise has stopped.

He raises his eyebrows. “So may I continue?”

I’m not feeling super amorous after listening to that scraping sound coming from within the house, coupled with the completely exposed

window. But Enzo is already kissing my neck again, and I have to say, it is extremely hard to ask him to stop.