Chapter 12
His face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I felt guilty.”
“So you sent me affection.”
“Yes.”
“To make yourself feel better?”
He closed his eyes.
“Probably.”
I nodded.
That answer fit.
It was ugly.
But it fit.
“And Warren?”
Lucas winced.
“I needed a reason for being late.”
“You could have come home.”
“I was afraid you would look at me and know.”
Something bitter rose in me.
“You were right.”
“I know.”
“So you sat somewhere inventing overtime.”
“Yes.”
“And you used Daniel’s name because it sounded real.”
“Yes.”
“Then you came home.”
“Yes.”
“Carrying the laptop bag.”
“Yes.”
“Complaining about the quarterly review.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“What was inside the bag?”
Lucas frowned.
“What?”
“Your laptop bag.”
“My laptop.”
“You carried your laptop around with you all day?”
“No.”
The answer was too soft.
“Where was it?”
“In the trunk.”
For some reason that detail broke me.
I laughed.
Then I covered my mouth.
Lucas looked terrified.
The laugh turned into a sob.
I stood abruptly and walked to the sink.
Behind me, Lucas remained seated.
My husband’s laptop had spent the day locked in the trunk of his car while he carried an empty-looking professional life into a hotel restaurant to meet another woman.
Even his computer had been part of the performance.
I gripped the edge of the sink.
“I feel stupid.”
Lucas stood.
“You’re not.”
“I know.”
He stopped.
I turned toward him.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
He looked confused.
“I’m not stupid, Lucas.”
“I know.”
“I trusted you.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t blind. I wasn’t naive. I didn’t ignore some obvious truth everyone else could see.”
“No.”
“I believed my husband when he said he was going to work.”
My voice shook.
“That should have been a safe thing to believe.”
Lucas’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He lowered his head.
I breathed slowly.
Then I asked the question that had been waiting since the night before.
“Were you going to see her again?”
Lucas looked at me.
He took too long.
That was answer enough.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
I laughed again, but there was no humor in it.
“You hadn’t decided.”
“No.”
“But you wanted to.”
He looked devastated.
“Yes.”
And there it was.
The part of the truth I needed most.
Not the kiss.
Not the breakfast.
Not the hotel.
The future.