Chapter 2

Graham's knuckles blanched around the steering wheel.

That single moment of hesitation severed the last thread of hope inside me like a dull blade.

"Before we went upstairs, you told me you'd never been to her new apartment." My voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it carried a resolve that surprised even me. "Maybe... maybe we shouldn't stay married."

The words seemed to trip a switch inside him.

Graham slammed on the brakes. The tires skidded across the wet pavement before the car lurched to a stop at the curb.

For the first time, unmistakable panic flashed in his eyes.

"Gen, listen to me. You have to let me explain."

I turned away and swallowed the bitter knot in my throat. "Explain what? You know her Wi-Fi password, but you lied and said you'd never been there."

He stared at me for a moment, then his voice rose.

"Fine. Okay! Yes, I've been there!"

He yanked at his tie, looking like a man I had cornered into confessing.

"But it isn't what you think. Sloan and I were planning a surprise for our first anniversary."

The air left my lungs as if he had struck me.

Graham unlocked his phone and quickly opened a password-protected album.

"I wanted to surprise you on New Year's Eve. Sloan knows what you like, and she knows how to get you somewhere without making you suspicious. She signed the lease last month and secretly came back twice. Her place is only two blocks from the venue by the Charles, so we met here a few times."

He held the screen out to me.

It showed an elaborate plan for an anniversary dinner.

Champagne roses. Strings of warm gold lights. A custom diamond anniversary band. Even a miniature of the Cambridge coffee shop where we had first met.

I had once mentioned, almost in passing, that the cafe had been torn down. If anyone ever brought it back to me, I said, I would probably burst into tears on the spot.

I had nearly forgotten saying it.

Graham had remembered.

"That's when my phone connected to the network." His voice softened, exhaustion and hurt settling into it. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect the surprise. Sloan only brought up the anniversary tonight to tease you."

He swiped through the pictures one by one. Every image showed how much thought he had put into it.

"Now it's all ruined."

With that, he sank back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Guilt crashed over me.

In five years, Graham had never given me a real reason to doubt him.

He remembered my shellfish allergy, the anniversary of my mother's death, and the way nerves kept me awake all night before every board meeting.

And I had taken one Wi-Fi connection and a few careless words and turned him into the worst kind of man.

"I'm sorry..."

My voice began to shake.

Graham opened his eyes.

I threw myself into his arms as the tears finally came. "I never should have doubted you."

For a moment, he was still. Then his palm settled against the back of my head.

"Silly girl." He sighed and stroked my hair. "How could I ever stay angry with you?"

That night, Graham was unusually attentive.

He ran me a bath, lit my favorite cedarwood candle beside the tub, and silenced his phone as though no one else existed in our world.

Even his touch was gentler and more lingering than usual.

I buried my face against his shoulder and caught the faint trace of perfume on his skin.

It was not mine.

I quickly convinced myself I was smelling Sloan's perfume on my own clothes from when she hugged me.

I had already accused him once. I could not turn every small detail into evidence of a crime.

Long after Graham fell asleep, I lay awake.

The miniature coffee shop would not leave my mind.

I told myself I only wanted one more look at the surprise he had prepared for me.

I took his phone from the nightstand, unlocked it with my birthday, and opened the protected album again.

The miniature looked almost real. Light gleamed against its tiny glass windows. I enlarged the image, trying to see the two figures inside that had been modeled after us.

I zoomed in, little by little.

In the blurred reflection of the glass, Graham stood shirtless. Sloan wore nothing but a white sheet. His hand was locked around her waist as she tipped her face up to kiss him.

Behind them was the dark green marble fireplace.

Only hours earlier, I had sat in front of that same fireplace and raised a glass to welcome Sloan home.

The photograph had been taken inside her apartment.

The miniature coffee shop was real.

The champagne roses were real.

The anniversary ring was real.

Even the care he had put into our first anniversary was real.

Only the promise of faithfulness he had made on our wedding day had turned out to be a lie.

Something inside me shattered beyond repair.