She had heard him laugh on the phone. The specific laugh, the open one he used to do with her all the time and had not done in a while. The phone had been with somebody else, somebody named Claire, and the laugh had been in response to something Claire said. She had not meant to be listening. Now she was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her own hands and her chest had gone tight. She did not trust Claire. She trusted him, she was almost sure. But the laugh, that laugh, she had thought that laugh was only for her.