The coffee filters were on the top shelf, but Kayla kept asking Andrew to reach them whenever she crossed our kitchen in a towel. She called it a test, even after I told her to stop. On Sunday, Andrew set down his coffee, unlocked his phone, and showed her why he’d stopped leaving the room that day.

“You’re seriously threatened by me wearing a towel?”

“No.”

“Kayla…”

She took a sip.

“I’m just saying, this sounds like a husband problem, not a towel problem.”

“No. It’s a you-ignoring-me problem.”

That made her smile.

Not a nice smile.

“Honestly? Think of it as a test.”

I stared at her.

“A test.”

She set down her mug.

“If Andrew can be tempted because another woman walks through the kitchen in a towel, wouldn’t you rather know now?”

I thought I’d misheard her.

“You’re deliberately trying to tempt my husband?”

“No.” She said it as though I were being ridiculous. “I’m seeing whether he can be tempted.”

“If he fails, that’s on him.”

I folded my arms.

Kayla rolled her eyes.

“You’re making this way bigger than it is.”

***

That evening, I told Andrew.

He was loading the dishwasher.

For several seconds, the only sound was plates sliding into the rack.

Finally he said, “She actually used the word ‘test’?”

“Twice.”