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his too-handsome face, and her friends’ and his father’s admonitions returned, as if written upon that face. He would use her, leave her, he’d take her money, he was a playboy. She fought her fear, an instinct maybe, after all she must love Nate, her husband, she should help him to succeed. Even so, she told him she needed time to think, because that kind of money was serious. Nate was stunned. Abigail saw disbelief in his eyes or weakness, like in her father’s eyes, a beaten dog’s eyes, in bed, far from Nate, Abigail dreamed someone was trying to kill her. Nate couldn’t sleep.
    Some days later, Nate said there’s gold in the security box, grandmother’s jewelry, take it as collateral. She hated his pleading, his putting her in an impossible position, he knew she had to protect her future. What if, she thought, what if… and she wasn’t being selfish, life was unpredictable. She wondered why she’d ever fallen in love with him, he didn’t know her at all. A hardness insinuated itself inside her, and a space opened between them that was palpable to Nate. He appeared to wither before her eyes, too insecure, she realized, he’s nothing like his father. She couldn’t name what he was doing to her, but it was wrong, everything about him and her felt wrong. Meanwhile, Nate’s potential partner waited, an intrepid humiliation returned, and Nate even drank in front of Abigail.
    Still, Abigail suppressed her nameless protests and went with him to open the security box. It was strange walking down the hall where they’d first talked and fallen in love, but more terrible she felt it was her death march. The guard opened the door, and Nate and she entered the vault, where two straight-backed chairs were brought to them and then the gray steel box. There was some jewelry, she could have it appraised, some certificates, gold, and bonds. Nate lifted one up to show her, and beneath it lay his little black book. When Abigail reached for it, Nate put his hand on her arm.
    —It doesn’t mean anything, I kept it like a scrapbook.
    She shook his hand off.
    —You lied to me.
    She rose, his address book in her hand, evidence of everything she’d been thinking, no one could blame her, she wasn’t responsible, leaving him wasn’t selfish. But it meant nothing, he repeated the next day. It means everything, she repeated, she could never trust him again. He claimed she already didn’t, she wouldn’t lend him money, she insisted that he wouldn’t have asked for it if he really loved her. She wanted a divorce.
    —You never loved me, he said.
    —That isn’t true, I can’t ever trust you again.
    To Nate, her abandonment confirmed his father’s bad opinion of him, and also that his past had caught up to him, it always would. Abigail had to protect herself, no matter what, he didn’t understand.
    Their prenuptial agreement made divorce relatively easy, and she was so calm, her friends believed she was in shock, but his betrayal had been awful, they all agreed. When Abigail heard he’d returned to all his old ways, proving her right, that he would’ve just dragged her down, she felt sad but also secure in herself. And she was herself again, her friends thought, especially because Abigail volunteered at an animal shelter on weekends and fed strays on the street as she had during law school. When people at the office asked why, she’d explain she trusted cats and dogs, humans domesticated them, so they’re defenseless without us. But people, she occasionally added, people usually deserve what they get.

More Sex

    There were many men she wanted to have sex with, some days more men than other days, though she’d already had sex with many men, but those were the ones who were easy to have sex with or to find for sex, since they lived in the neighborhood; she could meet them at parties or in clubs, even in grocery stores, especially near the beer, wine, and cheese displays, probably because they’re often served at