The rest of the night passed in a strange, hyper-aware blur. Lucian slept soundly beside me, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his thumb resting right against the underside of my bare breast. I, on the other hand, stared at the ceiling for hours. The domestic safety of our bedroom felt entirely different now that the imaginary walls had been knocked down. Monopoly house rules. The phrase kept looping in my mind, a bizarrely mundane label for a massive shift in our marriage.
When the alarm finally went off, the morning light brought a cold wave of professional reality. I had to go to work. I had to look at Debra across a conference table.
Walking into the office building felt like stepping onto a tightrope. Every glance from the receptionist, every casual "good morning" from the
