The first morning, I told myself she’d simply forgotten Andrew was downstairs. Grief makes people absent-minded.
The second morning, I pulled her aside, keeping my voice gentle.
“Would you mind throwing on a robe before you come down? Andrew’s usually in the kitchen around then.”
Kayla blinked at me.
“Amanda, he’s your husband. Not some fourteen-year-old.”
“I know that.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.”
She tilted her head and studied me, like I’d handed her a riddle she found mildly entertaining.
Then she shrugged.
“Fine.”
The next morning, she did it again.
Part Two: The Test
So there we were — Andrew retreating upstairs, and Kayla stirring sugar into her coffee as though nothing in the world had happened.
“I asked you to stop,” I said, sharper than I meant to.
She leaned back against the counter, perfectly at ease.
“And I still don’t get why it bothers you.”
“You don’t need to get it.”
“You’re honestly threatened by a towel?”
“No.”
“Because if you actually trusted Andrew—”
“Kayla.”
She took a slow sip.
“I’m just saying. Sounds more like a husband problem than a towel problem.”
“No. It’s a you-not-listening-to-me problem.”
That made her smile. Not a warm smile. The kind that already knows it’s going to win the argument.
“Honestly? Think of it as a test.”
I stared at her.
“A what?”
“A test.” She set her mug down with a little click. “If Andrew can be tempted just because some woman walks past him in a towel, wouldn’t you want to know that now? Before it’s too late?”
For a second I genuinely thought I’d misheard.
“You’re trying to tempt my husband. On purpose.”
“No.” She said it like I was being absurd. “I’m finding out whether he can be tempted.”
“Those aren’t nearly as different as you think they are.”
“If he fails, that’s on him, not me.”
