Chapter 3
She said Daniel sounded almost frantic and had asked whether I had been “seeing someone.”
Sophie told him that if he was living with Rachel, my private life was none of his business.
That should have ended it.
Instead, Daniel texted again: “We need to talk.”
I finally answered him with four words.
“No, we really don’t.”
Across the lobby, the elevator opened again.
This time Rachel stepped out alone and looked directly at me.
She had no suitcase, no coat over her arm, and no Daniel beside her.
Then she started walking toward our table.
And the look on her face told me Daniel’s jealousy had already created a problem upstairs.
Rachel stopped beside our table, her eyes moving from Michael to me.
“Claire. Could we speak privately?”
There was something different about her voice. The woman I'd seen crossing the lobby fifteen minutes earlier had looked perfectly comfortable holding my husband's hand. Now her shoulders were stiff, and she was gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
I glanced at Michael.
He started to rise. “I can give you two a minute.”
“No,” I said. “You don't have to leave.”
Rachel looked uncomfortable. “It's about Daniel.”
“That doesn't make it private.”
She swallowed.
For a moment, I thought she might turn around and walk away. Instead, she pulled out the empty chair across from me and sat down without asking.
“Daniel thinks you're having an affair.”
I looked at her for several seconds.
Then I laughed.
Not because the situation was particularly funny, but because the absurdity of hearing those words from my husband's mistress was almost impossible to process.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “Could you repeat that?”
Rachel's cheeks reddened.
“He thinks you've been seeing this man behind his back.”
Michael leaned forward slightly.
“Behind his back?” he repeated. “Isn't Daniel living with you?”
Rachel gave him a sharp look.
“I'm trying to have a conversation with Claire.”
“And I'm trying to understand the rules,” Michael replied pleasantly. “Apparently Daniel gets to live with another woman, but Claire isn't allowed to have dinner with a man?”
“We're not having dinner,” I said.
Michael nodded. “Even more scandalous. Coffee in a public lobby.”
Despite herself, Rachel looked down.
I recognized something in that expression. Embarrassment, certainly. But there was also a flicker of realization.
“Rachel,” I said, “why are you actually here?”
She took a breath.