“You’re exhausted.” She picked up the bottle and held it out to me.

“You’re sleeping on a fold-out couch with a newborn.

I’ll pretend you didn’t say that to me in my own kitchen.”

She grabbed her phone off the counter, looked at the screen, and said, “Brooke has gone through my office twice this month.

Twice.

I don’t like it one bit.”

I didn’t ask what Brooke had been looking for.

I took the bottle and asked where the bathroom was, and on my way down the hall I counted the new cabinets and the new handles on them.