“Sure.” Radley and Sarah would, that was for sure.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the house, a fat older house, not quite a Victorian, not quite Arts and Crafts, not quite Tudor . . . a little odd, really, with its steeply pitched roof and lead-paned windows. Big yard. The back led to a set of stairs down to a dock overlooking Narragansett Bay.

It smelled like the ocean and pine trees.

They went up the deep front porch, which wrapped around one corner. It would be nice and shady in the summer, he imagined. Frank fumbled with his key.

“Sorry we were acting like children,” Radley said, smiling. “We’re his friends. This guy here is solid gold, but he needs a laugh every now and then.”

“Children are much better behaved than the two of you,” Frank said, glancing at Radley. Maybe he was eye-fucking. Josh didn’t know about these things.

Frank found the right key, opened the front door, a solid oak relic flanked by lead-paned windows, and in they went.

“Holy shit,” Sarah said. “It’s . . . wow.”

They wandered around in silence, Frank wisely letting them see for themselves.

Beautiful woodwork, stained glass and beams greeted them in the living room, which clearly had remained untouched since it was built—the craftsmanship and style were from another era. It smelled a bit musty, but not in a bad way . . . just in an old-house way.

Whoever lived here last had been fond of ugly wallpaper and paint colors. The dining room was a violent shade of purple but sported a fireplace; the kitchen was mac ’n’ cheese yellow, with the original glass-paned cabinets painted blue. At some point, the owner had updated the counters to yellow Formica, and the floor was chipped vinyl.

The house went on forever . . . a small study with chestnut floor-to-ceiling bookcases against orange-painted walls. There were multiple fireplaces and porches. There was a sunroom, wallpapered with a pattern that resembled splotches of blood, and, continuing the body secretions color palette, bile-green shag carpeting.

Upstairs, it was uglier . . . the previous owners had put in awkward modifications here and there—dividing one bedroom into two with a shaky wall, installing a casket-sized shower in one bathroom and, for some mysterious reason, building a closet around the claw-foot tub. Three bathrooms were carpeted. Every upstairs window would need to be replaced, and some would have to be custom-made. Four bedrooms plus a very cool attic suite on the third floor that had a sitting room with slanted ceilings and funky little windows, a good-sized bedroom and full bathroom. “This used to be the maid’s quarters. Perfect for a teenager,” Frank said.

Outside, the large, wooded yard led down to the water. There was a workspace over the garage, its windows looking over the bay, where, come summer, there’d be a plethora of sailboats, no doubt.

“The Edgewood Yacht Club is over there,” Frank said, “if you’re interested in boating.”

He pictured Lauren sitting on the deck of a sailboat in a big floppy hat, smiling at him. “I’m not really a boat person,” he murmured.

He could always sell it, probably at a profit once he got rid of that tacky wallpaper, overhauled the kitchen and updated the bathrooms. He kind of liked the rambling nature of the house, the fact that it wasn’t just one thing. It was full of nooks and crannies and secret closets, beautiful banisters and a creepy cellar.

It was, he thought, a little bit like him. Awkward on the outside, yet lovely within, if you could put in the work. The house was to Josh as Josh had been to Lauren—needing an overhaul, but full of potential.

He bet she would’ve liked that analogy.

He could picture Sebastian and Octavia playing on the porch with their little cars and trucks and animal toys, watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. The yard was plenty big enough for a dog, or even two. Darius and Jen could come and stay; he could almost hear Darius’s big laugh as he grilled. Plenty of room for everyone.

And, in the study with the broken fireplace, a little girl could curl up on that window seat and read all day. She could color in the sunroom and make a fairy house under the big maple trees, the way Lauren had told him she had done as a child. Stand at the counter and help Sumi and Ben make kimchi.

This little girl . . . she was not Octavia. She was . . . his.

His future daughter. Shy like him, black hair, pretty eyes. She’d love to read and build things. She could sleep in the front bedroom with the big windows and run down the ornate stairs on Christmas morning. She could sit in the deep claw-foot tub at bathtime, and he would push her hair back from her face as he tucked her in at night, and—

“I’ll take it,” he said to Frank. “Excuse me a minute.”

He bolted outside and stood under the bare trees, looking toward the water. His heart jackhammered in his chest, and for a few seconds, his vision blurred, but the cold air helped. It wasn’t a red-out. It was something like panic. He was breathing too fast. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox.

“I’m sorry, Lauren,” he said out loud. “I’m sorry.” He leaned against the pine tree, its bark rough against his back.

That little girl was the first time he’d pictured a future without his wife that wasn’t bleak and solitary. The first time he’d imagined the possibility of being happy without Lauren. Of loving someone not linked to her. The first time he’d imagined having a child who wasn’t theirs.

He took in a slow breath and let it out, then another. Wiped his eyes.

Don’t be a loser, he could almost hear her saying. This is exactly the point.

31

Joshua

Month twelve

February

THE RUSH OF buying the house carried him along for a few weeks. He’d shown it to Jen and her crew. Sebastian had proclaimed it “the best house in the world for hide-and-seek, Uncle Josh!” and Donna had clucked over how extravagant it was, “but you deserve it, of course.” His own mom had simply told him how proud of him she was, and then picked out the room she’d like “when Sumi, Ben and I come here for two weeks every August.” Ben proclaimed it perfect for Josh.