Chapter 2

The next morning, I didn't ask Julian about Lianne's message from the night before.

He didn't mention it either.

We had breakfast together as usual. He went through his emails while I checked the gallery schedule for the day. Before we left, he picked up my coat from the back of my chair and smoothed my collar into place.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

I asked.

"Yes. If something comes up, I'll let you know."

Everything felt so normal that I started to wonder if I'd made too much of those few seconds the night before.

That afternoon, just as I finished a discussion about an installation at the gallery, a message from Julian appeared on my phone.

Lianne ran into a problem. I'm having someone help her take care of it. I may be home a little late tonight.

I stared at the message for a few seconds before replying.

Okay.

When Julian came home later, I learned that Lianne's return to New York had disrupted some of the arrangements she used to rely on. She needed help with a personal matter and didn't know anyone suitable to handle it, so she had called Julian.

"She doesn't know many people in New York anymore."

Julian undid his cuff links, his tone matter-of-fact.

"It wasn't difficult for me to help."

I watched him from the sofa in our bedroom.

"So you were the first person she thought of?"

His hands paused.

"Iris."

"I'm just asking."

Julian crossed the room and sat beside me.

"She just got back. A lot of things aren't settled yet. I helped her this once. That's all."

There was nothing inherently wrong with what he was saying.

If Lianne had been any ordinary old friend, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about it.

But she wasn't.

"I didn't say you couldn't help her."

Julian studied me for a moment, as though trying to decide how much this bothered me.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can keep you updated."

"I don't need to monitor every message you get."

His expression eased, and he rested a hand on my knee.

"I know."

That night, the matter seemed to end there.

Two days later, we were having dinner when Julian's phone lit up beside his plate.

Lianne: I just passed that Italian place. I can't believe it's still there. Remember the first time we went and you insisted they'd cooked your steak wrong?

Julian glanced at the screen but didn't immediately pick up the phone.

I saw it too.

"Is her problem still not taken care of?"

I asked.

"It's handled."

"Then what's that about?"

Only then did Julian pick up his phone.

"A restaurant we used to go to."

He lowered his eyes and replied.

The next evening, I came out of the bathroom to find him propped against the headboard, looking at his phone.

Lianne's name appeared on the screen again.

This time, I didn't pretend I hadn't seen it.

"Her again?"

"Yeah."

"Another restaurant?"

Julian looked up at me.

"She mentioned an event we went to years ago."

"You went together?"

"Yes."

My hands slowed as I dried my hair.

Julian didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about it. He glanced down at the screen, and the faintest smile touched his mouth.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing important."

He paused.

"Just that she almost showed up late that night, and I waited outside for forty minutes."

"You remember that?"

"Yes."

There wasn't a second of hesitation.

I said nothing else. I walked over to the vanity and set down the towel.

A reasonable wife shouldn't immediately call it betrayal because her husband helped someone he used to love. I knew Julian's history. I also knew he had always believed he owed Lianne something.

There had even been a time when I respected that regret.

But the thank-you messages were over.

Now they were talking about restaurants, events, memories only the two of them shared. Pieces of a relationship that had supposedly ended were slowly making their way back into Julian's present.

And what I couldn't ignore was that he didn't seem to think any of it needed to be hidden from me.

Once, during dinner, a message from Lianne appeared on his phone. Julian didn't pick it up immediately, but the moment he set down his silverware, he opened it.

It wasn't flirting.

Not yet.

It felt more like a door that had been closed for years had been given a perfectly reasonable excuse to open a crack.

Friday night, I was passing Julian's study when I heard him on the phone.

I hadn't meant to stop.

Then I heard Lianne's name.

"I remember,"

he said, his voice gentler than it ever was on business calls.

"You kept saying that year, if everything afterward hadn't happened..."

I couldn't hear what she said.

Julian was silent for several seconds.

Then his voice dropped.

"Sometimes I've wondered too. If back then..."