Chapter 1
I drank boiled tap water every day. Rust flakes came out of the faucet, and chalky sediment settled at the bottom of the kettle.
"Water filters are a scam," my husband, Ryan Cole, said. "Tap water's full of minerals. Just boil it. It's better for you."
I believed him.
Then I found out I was pregnant. My doctor advised me to filter our water. "Old pipes can leave contaminants in it. You don't want to be drinking those."
I was standing outside our front door, clutching the test results and wondering how to convince Ryan, when it swung open.
He stepped out carrying the most expensive water filter I'd seen advertised. My best friend, Megan Lawson, followed him.
"Megan's moved in across the hall," he said, barely slowing down. "Now we can look out for each other."
He turned to her, his voice softening. "Don't feel bad about accepting it. It's a housewarming present. There's so much junk in the water these days. Women have to be especially careful about that sort of thing."
He opened her door and went straight to work under the kitchen sink. He shifted things around, tested the water, and adjusted the fittings. By the time he'd finished installing the filter, he was sweating.
Only then did he seem to notice me staring.
"You're different," he said. "You're out making sales calls all day. You don't need to fuss over every little thing."
I hid the test results behind my back.
Suddenly, I didn't want to tell him he was going to be a father. I didn't want to ask him for a water filter, either.
He knew perfectly well why someone might need one.
I just wasn't worth the trouble.
Megan cleared her throat. "Erin, let's have poached fish tonight. Your favorite. We can celebrate my new place."
Before I could answer, Ryan took the grocery bag from her hand.
"But you like spicy fish stew," he told her. "Sit back. Let me show you what I can do."
He jerked his chin at me. "You could try something different for once. It doesn't always have to be plain fish."
Then he headed into her kitchen.
I watched him gut the fish, rinse it, and slice it into neat pieces. He knew exactly what he was doing.
My heart sank.
He'd always told me he couldn't cook. Once, when I was sick and craving seafood chowder, I'd begged him to make me some.
He'd frowned. "Don't push it, Erin. I told you before we got married that I don't cook."
Now he set a steaming bowl of spicy fish stew on the table. He cut off a piece, brushed away the charred spices, and placed it in Megan's bowl.
"Here. You nearly choked on a bone last time, remember? I've taken most of them out."
I set down my fork. "When did you two have fish together?"
"It was a work dinner," Megan said quickly. "Ryan said you don't like fish with strong flavors, so he didn't invite you."
He kept serving her, without even looking up. "Seriously, Erin? You don't trust your own husband? Or your best friend?"
Megan tugged at his sleeve, a silent warning to ease off.
The two of them were so in sync. I sat there with a lump in my throat, unable to speak.
Then the smell of wine and spices from the stew hit me. My stomach lurched. I shoved my chair back and stumbled to the bathroom, where I bent over the toilet and retched.
When I came out, Megan was crying quietly at the table. Ryan stood outside the bathroom, scowling.
"I didn't know you could be this petty. It's her first day here, and you're already finding ways to make her feel unwelcome."
I stared at him. Somehow, my being sick had become a personal attack.
I gave a short, bitter laugh. "I'm your wife, Ryan. I asked you to look out for her, not to lose your head over her."
I went back to our condo.
By the time I'd showered, water was seeping across the floor.
