Why would she ask that question, in that voice, like she’d been waiting for me to call?
Oh, honey.
I knew that voice. Every woman knows that voice. It’s the voice other women use when they know something about your marriage that you don’t.
I sat at the kitchen table and put my head down on my arms.
I didn’t cry. I was too scared to cry.
Mark came home at five-thirty, like always.
I’d thought about confronting him at the door. I’d practiced it in my head all afternoon. Who is she? How long? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?
But when the front door opened and I heard his boots on the mat, I lost my nerve.
Because what if I was wrong?
And worse, what if I was right?
“Hey, Lee,” he said, walking into the kitchen. He kissed the top of my head. “Something smells good.”
