Chapter 3

The notification on the shared tablet had automatically synced through his email:

The Drake Hotel -- Reservation Confirmed.

Guest: Evan Hart & Maya Bell.

Room Type: Lake View King Suite.

Check-in Date: Tonight.

I sat on the wooden stool by the counter, looking at the glowing screen.

He had told me he was driving her back to her parents' house in Naperville after dinner, and that he would sleep in their guest room.

I didn't close the app.

Instead, I tapped the search bar in his synced email and typed three words: The Drake Hotel.

The list populated instantly.

At the top of the search history was an older email from last Thanksgiving.

The Drake Hotel -- Reservation Receipt.

Guest: Evan Hart & Maya Bell.

Room Type: Lake View King Suite.

Last Thanksgiving, Evan had kissed my forehead at 6:00 a.m. and told me he had to stay in the city for an emergency closing at work.

I had spent the entire holiday in this apartment by myself, baking chicken breasts, watching television, and sending him text messages telling him not to skip dinner.

He had spent that night in the exact same suite at The Drake, with the woman who was sleeping on our couch three months prior.

There were no tears.

My throat felt dry, but my hands were completely still.

I stood up, walked to our home office desk, and turned on the wireless printer.

The machine whirred into life in the quiet room.

I printed two copies of the reservation: the one from tonight, and the one from last Thanksgiving.

I folded one set and slipped it into the front pocket of my carry-on bag.

The second set remained on the desk.

I walked back to the kitchen, closed the iPad, and laid it flat next to the plastic-domed supermarket pumpkin pie.

I pulled up my boarding pass on my personal phone.

Flight 1482 to Portland.

Boarding time: 9:10 a.m.

I set my alarm for 5:45 a.m. and left the second set of reservations on the desk.

In the morning, I would put them where Evan could not miss them.

I lay down on top of the made bed without taking off my clothes. My phone stayed on the nightstand with the volume turned up, but no message came.

The apartment stayed silent around me.

By the time Evan came home, I would be gone.