JENNIE

In the front seat of our realtor's car, Taehyung nodded along with the tick of the turn signal.

"What'd I tell you?" He pushed up the sleeves of his cream-colored pullover and glanced back at me. "The commute isn't bad at all."

In the driver's seat, Jeanine's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "It's practically the same as what you do now once you factor in the walk to public transportation and train delays."

"It's Saturday," I pointed out. "We're not dealing with traffic."

Jeanine watched the stoplight through her windshield. "It's not much heavier than this," she assured me.

I kept my doubts to myself. We'd been at this an hour, and neither Taehyung nor Jeanine could be budged from their optimism over the suburbs. The neighborhoods our realtor had for us were either "charming" or "up-and-coming," and all in a "desirable school district." The commute was "a straight shot," the location "a tradeoff for restful sleep." Taehyung had never had trouble sleeping in the city until recently. Now, he was suddenly fed up with noise from our upstairs neighbors, the street lamps and car horns, the long lines, impossible parking, loitering twenty-something students . . .

"Along with Evanston, this suburb has one of the lowest crime rates in the metro area," Jeanine said. She'd been spouting off facts since we'd gotten in her car. "That's why I picked it after hearing what you've been through. I have a great feeling about this next house."

Taehyung glanced back at me. "You'll be safe here."

I looked out my open window at quiet streets, save the almost imperceptible rustling of foliage. Grand, old-fashioned houses sat comfortably in their foundations, settled from decades of existence. Lower crime rates weren't enough to convince me I belonged here. I'd moved to the city out of college around seven years ago, and it still awed me each day. There was always some new performance to see, activity to try, cuisine to taste. I still stumbled across gems on a daily basis. Buying a home here meant less variety. It meant backyards, a second car, peaceful nights to cook dinner and fall asleep to the TV. It was as if we'd hopped a spaceship from the bustling sidewalks of Chicago to Pleasant Street, Oak Park. What did people even do out here?

Jeanine accelerated for a green light, driving us by a playground with three strollers parked at the entry gate.

Oh, right. That was what people did around here—they raised children.

If the suburbs felt like another planet to me, the concept of kids was downright alien. Taehyung wanted them, the sooner the better. I, on the other hand, had reservations.

This was hardly the first time Taehyung had tried to get me to see houses, but I'd always been able to come up with convincing excuses to get out of it.

Until Mark Alvarez.

"I still can't get over that story." Jeanine shook her head, the needle of her speedometer hovering at twenty-six miles an hour. Champagne blonde, the same color of her SUV, streaked her brown hair. "The gang violence in this city has really gotten out of hand. I don't blame you for wanting out after your attack."

How could I argue with my safety? For Taehyung, having Mark Alvarez—an aggrieved family member of a convict Taehyung had put away—show up at our apartment was the last straw. We'd never personally faced violence in the city, but as an attorney, Taehyung had been exposed to the worst of it. He knew what happened in Chicago's underbelly, and now that it'd reached his doorstep, he wasn't taking any chances.

Lou Alvarez had been one of Taehyung's final assignments before he'd left the DA's office. He'd called the double homicide one of the ugliest and most difficult cases he'd worked on—but it'd been worth it. Lou was now serving a life sentence without parole for first-degree murder. His gang affiliation had hurt his case—and it also put Taehyung and his former colleagues in danger of retaliation.

What would Lou's brother Mark have done if he'd encountered Taehyung instead? "It could've been worse," I said.

"Worse?" Taehyung asked. "Well, I suppose he could've shot you down right there on the sidewalk."

I grimaced. "He didn't even have a gun."

"You don't know that. The guys at my old office have a pool going over how many counts we'll nail him for, including whether he'll be carrying when we pick him up."

"It must be non-stop action over there," Jeanine said.

As Taehyung did his best to shock her with overblown tales from the Cook County crypt, I removed my cell from my handbag to check my e-mail. A subject line from the night before caught my eye.

Your Safety

My interest piqued, but it was the sender's name that made the world around me fall away.

Lisa Manoban.

I hadn't talked to her since she'd walked out of my office earlier in the week, but my heart fluttered the same way it did whenever I came face to face with her.

"See something you like?" Jeanine asked.

I glanced up. "Sorry?"

"You're smiling," she said into the rearview. "If you spot any For Sale signs, we can pull over."

I put my phone away as Taehyung shifted to face me. "I knew you'd like Oak Park. It's the perfect distance. You're still close to the city, and I can finally get a decent night's rest."

Jeanine pulled over and parked in front of a house. I braced myself for disappointment, but to my surprise, its spiked, triangular roof and jagged rock exterior was nothing like what we'd seen so far. Its enormity lay in the imposing structure rather than in square footage. It wasn't turnkey like Taehyung had requested; it needed work. The run-down property, thick with overgrown brush, oozed with character. Hard angles, a stone path and chimney, and clean, jutting lines gave it a modern but rustic feel. Yet in an oasis of traditional homes, it somehow retained the neighborhood's atmosphere.

It was quietly magnificent.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out to get a better look. Dead grass crunched under my shoes as I used my hand to shield my eyes against the lowering sun.

"Jennie?"

I glanced over my shoulder.

Jeanine gestured to me as she and Taehyung crossed the street. "This one. Over here."

Ah. Behind her, a realtor's sign sprouted from lush, green grass that belonged to a spacious, pretty home resembling every other house on the block. Except the one where I stood.

I should've known. And it was for the best. Neither Taehyung nor I had time for a DIY project.

I stepped off the curb and followed Jeanine into the house we were supposed to be seeing. We climbed the front steps to a large entryway, then an empty dining room that echoed with our footsteps, making our way through a kitchen with enough room that I'd actually be able to spread out. Upstairs, a sprawling master bedroom and en suite bathroom with double sinks would be the clincher for Taehyung. He often complained about our cramped one-bedroom and single bathroom, especially when we had guests over.

While he and Jeanine discussed amenities, I wandered down the hall into a smaller room that faced the street.

A cracked window allowed me to breathe in the fresh, spring breeze and absorb the sunshine that graced the home's vivid lawn in all its brilliance. What was so scary about the suburbs?

From where I stood on the second floor, the home across the way seemed even more out of place. The lush backyard seemed as unkempt as the front, but what I could see looked as if it had once been a garden. With its rock exterior, contrasting rust-colored roof, and darkened windows, the house gave off a much less welcoming vibe than its neighbors. It was different. Unexpected. It didn't belong. As it stood, it was an eyesore, but I could envision bringing it to life with a weed whacker, fixing the cracks in the stone walkway, adding a fresh coat of paint . . .

Before I could finish the thought, my phone rang in my handbag. I checked the screen but didn't recognize the number. That wasn't a surprise. The weekend receptionist occasionally forwarded me calls from the office.

"This is Jennie," I answered.

"This is Lisa."

I froze, keeping my eyes out the window. She didn't need to announce herself. I'd have easily identified Lisa Manoban's deep voice despite my will to forget her.

She didn't need any more encouragement, though. "Lisa who?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I suppose you know me better as Pranpriya."

I glanced at the ground, smiling at the jab. I couldn't blame her for teasing me when I should've done my homework. "Oh, that Lisa," I said. "How'd you get this number?"

"Yuna. I'm grateful for my sake she's working over the weekend, but you should have a talk with her about giving out your personal info to charming strangers."

"Apparently." I could only imagine how Lisa had sweet-talked the receptionist into passing her on to Yuna so she could butter her up for my number.

"You never responded to my e-mail," she said.

Your Safety. I bit my bottom lip. "It's Saturday. I haven't looked yet. What'd it say?"

"I've been worried since I last saw you. What'd your husband say about the encounter with . . .?"

"Mark Alvarez," I supplied. "He was upset about his brother, Lou, who's serving a life sentence."

"For?"

I shifted on my feet. "First-degree murder."

After a moment of silence, Lisa said, "What about this guy Mark?"

"I guess he was also on trial, but he had a better defense attorney and served minimal time with early release."

"And now that he's out, he needs someone to blame," Lisa concluded. "I thought your husband was at a private practice."

Lisa had just referred to Taehyung as "your husband" twice in a row. "Taehyung used to be a criminal prosecutor at the district attorney's office."

"And now he does criminal defense?"

I swiped a finger along the windowsill. No dust. I could picture Jeanine as a seller maniacally scrubbing the house sparkling clean like Annette Benning's character in American Beauty . "That's what makes Taehyung a good attorney," I said. "He's been on both sides."

"I see," Lisa said. "What now?"

"Aside from filing a report, there's not much we can do."

"Did you file a report?"

I nudged the toe of my heel between where the carpet met the wall. "Not yet."

"Why not? Isn't your husband irate? I'd think he'd be ripping everyone in his path a new one."

"He was," I said, although I wasn't sure irate was the right word. Taehyung had been shocked. Fascinated by the details. Confused as to why I'd walked home. He'd called friends at his old job to tell them the story. He was grateful I was safe, and angry enough to use this as an excuse to convince me we needed out of the city. But not necessarily irate.

The truth was boring. We just hadn't gotten around to reporting Mark—not that there was much to tell. "I'm sure they were empty threats," I said.

"You don't know that, Jennie." She said my name like a warning, but Lisa Manoban was the real threat. I believed her more capable of overturning my life than some vengeful, drunken asshole.

"Was there anything else?" I asked her. "Maybe something work-related?"

Lisa's presence only seemed to expand with her silence. "What are you doing right now?" she asked.

I glanced across the street. "Looking at a house."

"What house?"

"This ugly, run-down, overgrown, magnificent eyesore of a house," I said and sighed.

She chuckled. "Now you're speaking my language. What makes it magnificent?"

"It's weird—every other house on the block looks like it belongs in the suburbs. Underneath all the disrepair, this one looks like it actually could've been something special."

"I know exactly what you mean."

I frowned, sure I wasn't making any sense. "Are you teasing me?"

"I'm serious. I'm an architect, remember? I'll choose a magnificent eyesore over a tract home any day."

"But it requires money. Energy. Time."

"Even better. You have to get your hands dirty to unearth the good parts. That's work I love to do."

What did she mean by that? Could she fix the place up herself? I hadn't lived in an actual house since I'd left my father's at eighteen—yet I had the sudden urge to get my hands dirty with Lisa.

"You're in the suburbs?" she asked.

"Oak Park." I twisted the stud in my earlobe. "You asked if my husband was irate—this is his answer to the attack. Moving away."

Lisa cleared her throat. "I see."

Voices in the hallway made me turn. My fantasy dissolved. This house was a much more reasonable place with no assembly required. Taehyung wasn't the type to get his hands dirty. If I was honest, I probably wasn't, either. When was the last time I'd done anything remotely close to restoring a home? Cleaning stalls at our local animal shelter was as dirty as my hands ever got.

"I have to go," I said.

"I called for a reason."

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not a good time. Please don't call again."

I hung up as Taehyung spoke behind me. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

I knew what he wanted to hear, but I couldn't lie. "The house across the street is interesting," I said as I slid my cell into my handbag's side pocket.

After a moment of quiet, he said, "And if you were on that side of the street, you'd be saying the same thing about this one. Conveniently, that place isn't for sale."

I turned. "I didn't say I wanted it. Just that it's interesting."

"Which is more than you've said about any other property we've seen. This is the best one yet. Good neighborhood, in our price range, and more square footage than we'd hoped. And you have no comment at all?"

"It's nice," I conceded. "It is. I'm just not sure it's right. I can't see myself here."

"You're not even trying."

I looked at my heels as they sank into the beige carpet. I liked beige. Non-committal, unassuming, nothing-to-see-here-folks beige. Bland walls, maybe with some staged family photos, would offer our neighbors little insight into who I was, and I liked it that way. I liked my privacy, the little cage I'd built—not to lock myself in but to keep others out. Could I live in this beige house with Taehyung? Maybe. But with Lisa's phone call fresh in my mind, I wondered—what would I be giving up? What kind of life could I live toiling on the passion project across the street, and did I even want that? Unlike safe beige, white-hot passion seared anything in its path.

There was a reason I chose chardonnay.

"This isn't just about you," Taehyung said. "We have our future to think about."

"I understand that," I said, annoyed by the suggestion that I hadn't considered our future. "But buying a house is a huge decision, and I want it to be perfect."

He threw his arms in the air. "There's always going to be something, Jen. How many times do I have to tell you—perfect doesn't exist . It'll feel like home, you just have to give it time. You think that shithole across the street is perfect?"

"I have to apologize for that," Jeanine said, appearing in the doorway. She looked past me out the window. "It's appalling. The owners live in California and stopped taking care of it a while back. I think a couple neighbors have tried to report housing code violations, so perhaps one day they'll sell or tear it down. I can find out for you."

I readjusted my purse strap on my shoulder. "It's kind of charming."

"Even if it was for sale, it would need a complete overhaul," Jeanine said. "I wouldn't describe it as family-friendly, either. This room, on the other hand, would make a great nursery."

I frowned. Was I family-friendly? I'd asked myself some version of that countless times since meeting Taehyung. Here was my chance to give in to the fantasy he had for us. Standing here at the window of my would-be nursery, I imagined a tiny human in my arms. Taehyung's son or daughter. Before I could even complete the picture, the skin at the base of my neck began to burn, and my throat closed. "We're not looking for that yet."

"Oh, I . . ." Jeanine said. "Sorry for assuming. Most couples who move from the city—"

"We are looking for that," Taehyung said.

I forced myself to try again. I pictured myself downstairs, chicken parmesan baking in the oven. That sight came easier. Cooking soothed me. I'd wipe my hands on my apron and call "dinner's ready!" up the stairs to Taehyung. From the kitchen, I could see the living room and TV—all moms wanted that in a floorplan, Jeanine had said. My family within sight on Thanksgiving, watching the parade as I prepared a feast. To call out help with homework as I steamed vegetables for my growing child. To watch the Food Network or the news in the mornings as I made lunches for those who were leaving the house for the day.

And leaving me by myself.

I had to get out of the house, too. I couldn't spend my life between the kitchen and the nursery, regardless of whether I had the privilege of seeing the TV or the kids or the house across the street that had actual character.

"Not right now." The words tumbled out, and I didn't try to stop them. Voicing them was the only thing that calmed the increasingly unbearable itch under my collar. "Maybe one day we'll need all this space, but not now."

He scoffed. "What do you think we're doing here then?"

I had no answer for that. I worried if we got the nursery now, I'd be consenting to things I wasn't sure I wanted. And then, Taehyung's desire for children would grow, pushing and pushing until I gave in.

When I didn't respond, Taehyung's brows furrowed. "You think a fixer-upper is the answer?" he asked. "Do you understand the commitment that takes? You wouldn't even get in the car to come to the suburbs if I didn't push you at every turn—now you're going to take on a gut renovation?"

I bristled at the sarcasm dripping from his tone. "I want to choose the home I live in, and have some kind of gut feeling about it. Not settle because it's good on paper."

"Then we'd never move out of our apartment, and you know it."

Just like I never would've gotten married, I almost said, then froze, taken aback by the thought. I'd never considered Taehyung as someone I'd settled for. I'd chosen him and this life for many reasons. But none of them had been based on my gut—they were all good-on-paper reasons. Why, suddenly, after all these years, did it feel as if the walls were closing in and it was my last chance to inject some . . . some desire and ownership—some passion —into my choices?

I glanced at the house across the street again. What once would've been a risk and potentially disastrous undertaking with more potential for failure than success now seemed like raw possibility. Hope, in a way, that things weren't already set in stone.

Jeanine slipped a spec sheet into a manila file folder. "I'll give you two a moment."

"It's fine. Stay," I said. I didn't even want to have this argument alone with Taehyung, much less in front of someone else. Anything I said now, I might regret later. "Let's finish the tour."

"We already did the tour," Taehyung said.

"Half an hour and you're ready to make an offer?" I asked.

Jeanine nodded. "This place won't be on the market long."

Taehyung's lips drew tight across his face, but he didn't object.

"Let's get more information then," I said and walked out, leaving them both in the great nursery.

In a kitchen barely large enough for two people, where I definitely could not see the television or anywhere else into the apartment, I washed lettuce and did my best to distract myself from my thoughts while making dinner. As soon as Jeanine had dropped us off, Taehyung had turned on ESPN and hadn't emerged from the living room for more than an hour.

Until now.

He entered the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. "About earlier."

I had no desire to reopen the afternoon's discussion, but I suspected he wouldn't let this go. "Dinner will be ready soon," I said. "Don't snack." I passed him a knife and motioned to two tomatoes. "Can you chop those?"

As he sliced into the first one, red juice seeped onto the cutting board. "What are you thinking?"

"About what?" I asked.

"Today."

It wasn't as if I didn't know house hunting would open up a much larger discussion. But Taehyung and I had become pretty adept at navigating around touchy subjects. I opened the cabinet under the sink to toss romaine stalks into the trash.

"The house has a garbage disposal," Taehyung pointed out. "And a fancy dishwasher."

"Our dishwasher is fine."

"It barely fits anything."

"I don't mind handwashing the big stuff," I said.

He stayed quiet as the knife hit the wood repeatedly. "It's as close to perfect as it's going to get," he said. "We really can't hesitate."

"I said I'd think about it."

"Don't let the nursery comment scare you off. Just because you're not ready today doesn't mean you won't be soon."

"When?" I asked. "What's soon to you?"

"I don't know. Six months?"

My lungs emptied. Six months? I felt even less ready today than I had six months ago. "I'm in the same place I was when we last discussed this," I said, tearing up the lettuce. "And especially now, if I get this promotion—honey, I just don't feel like it's the right time."

"The timing might never feel right. It's the same with the house. You just have to do it. The rest will come."

I stiffened. It wasn't just that I didn't feel ready . . . I didn't want it. And I worried that I never would. Before Taehyung had proposed, when he and I would talk about our future, I'd assured him I'd get there one day. That there'd be a right time for children. But did that mean I owed it to him?

"I need more time," I said.

"I'm ready now."

I whirled from the sink to face him. "Now?"

He went silent again and stopped chopping. His knuckles whitened from gripping the knife. "I have been for a while—you know that."

"Taehyung, you can't expect me to just drop everything and get pregnant." Having a baby meant devoting my life to something bigger, putting my own dreams and aspirations second—or third, even. I'd be promising away a life I sometimes worried hadn't even begun. "I have things I still want to do. I'm not in the place I want to be yet."

"Everything you just said was 'me' or 'I,'" he said. "You have things you want to do. What about me?"

"I meant us," I said. "We've hardly even traveled."

"Our life doesn't end with a baby."

"It will for a while. How are we going to see the world with a newborn if we can't even afford to do it now?"

"Why do you think I sold out for this shiny new job?" he asked. "I was happier working for the State. Justice above all. But I moved to this firm for the money—so we could buy the bigger home and start a college savings account."

None of that was news to me, except that he'd never laid it out quite so honestly. When he'd come home a while back and expressed interest in leaving the public sector, we'd both wanted the money that came with joining a private practice. I'd encouraged him to look into it, and maybe I'd even pushed him when it'd come time to make the leap. Did that mean I'd also committed to life in the suburbs and all that came with it?

"You're not the only one with a career." I picked up the salad bowl and held it to my stomach like a shield. "I want this promotion. I'm not ready to give it up. I'm not ready for a baby."

"I heard you the first time, but you are. We are. I want you to stop birth control."

My heart dropped. "Don't push me on this. It's too big of a decision."

"You need me to push you, Jen—you always have. To start a relationship. To move in together. To get married. You know deep down, that's what you need from me—that's why you chose me as a partner. You need me to tell you that you are ready—"

"Stop saying that," I said, slamming the bowl on the island between us. "You don't know what I am. What if you're wrong—what happens if we're not ready? I don't want to end up like —"

"Like your parents," he said, his expression softening. "I know that scares you." He briefly glanced at my hand, clamped on my throat, which felt tight and hot. "Why do you think I'm pushing you?" he asked. "If I don't, you'll never get past that fear."

It was true. It was all true. I was scared. I wouldn't ever put a child through a divorce, and that couldn't happen if I never had one—a child or a divorce. As things stood with Taehyung, we were fine. Having a baby changed everything. My hands shook as I picked up the pieces of romaine that'd flown out of the bowl when I'd slammed it. "You're right. I don't want to end up like them. I won't."

"Jen," he said gently. "They didn't split up because of you. They changed. They fell out of love."

No, they hadn't. They'd loved each other too much. Couples didn't fight as hard as they did, especially toward the end, without love. I wasn't sure my father ever would've left my mom without a catalyst. He would've stayed if he hadn't been forced to protect me.

The year leading up to the split had been the worst of it, a painful downward spiral. Taehyung and I were happy now, but were we solid enough to bring a child into the world? I wasn't sure, but one thing I did know was that fear was not the only factor at play here. I hadn't felt anything but dread since standing in that future nursery, holding an imaginary baby I'd agreed to out of obligation.

"Well?" he asked.

I stared into the undressed salad. Some of the lettuce browned at the edges, wilting under the weight of the things Taehyung and I had said—and what we hadn't.

After some time had passed without my response, Taehyung said, "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're not ready." The knife clattered on the cutting board. "We've been married for almost five years, and you still won't let me in. I don't know how else to get you to commit, Jen. I've been patient, but I want this, and that's not going to change. Promise me you'll give this some serious thought."

He left the kitchen. I pressed my hand to my side, over the small raised scar under my blouse, trying to hold off the dread rising in me. I had already given this topic serious thought, and nothing had changed. What more did he want?

What could I give him without taking everything from myself?

My cold fingers stung the warm skin around my scar. The kitchen closed in around me. I couldn't stay. I needed out. I dumped the salad into the trash and called the one person who was sure to have plans on a Saturday night.