Chapter 2

The moment Evelyn covered her phone with her hand, I knew the number Owen couldn’t give me was sitting on her screen.

“Let me see your phone.”

She looked at Owen and didn’t move.

Owen stood and picked up my coat. “We’re going home. You’ve embarrassed Clara enough.”

Clara sat gripping her napkin, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She hadn’t asked why her daughter had shared my secret. She was only worried that I might keep asking questions.

I put on my coat and walked to the parking lot alone.

At home, Owen continued insisting that Evelyn had simply said the wrong thing.

“She repeated my words. The ones you sent her.”

“I needed advice.” He loosened his tie. “She knew me before you did. She knows what I’ve been through.”

“I want to see your messages.”

“Grace, those are private.”

Even Owen seemed to hear the absurdity in that answer.

He took out his phone and opened his conversation with Evelyn, apparently determined to prove there was nothing romantic between them.

There were no love messages at the top of the conversation.

Only a row of familiar gray waveforms.

He scrolled too quickly. I caught glimpses of my name, the dates I had sent each recording, and one forwarded label after another.

The oldest was from eighteen months ago.

“You said this only happened occasionally.”

“It did.”

I reached twenty-seven voice messages before he took the phone back.

Those recordings had once been our private ritual.

Early in our marriage, Owen worked mornings while I taught evening classes. We would leave two-minute messages for each other after the other person had fallen asleep.

We talked about our days. We also talked about the fears and weaknesses we didn’t want anyone else to hear.

Even after our schedules became normal again, I kept sending them.

I had believed those messages were the safest place in our marriage.

“How many of them were about Evelyn?”

“I didn’t count.”

“How many were about my mother?”

His hand stopped halfway through loosening his tie.

This time, he couldn’t even say none.

I went into the bedroom and pulled out a travel bag.

I packed a few changes of clothes, my laptop, and the materials I needed for work the next morning.

Owen blocked the doorway. “Where are you going?”

“Naomi’s.”

“Over a few voice messages?”

I zipped the bag. “Twenty-seven isn’t a few.”

He followed me to the stairs, explaining that he had only needed to talk to someone who understood his past.

He hadn’t touched Evelyn. He hadn’t dated her. He had never planned to leave me.

I didn’t answer.

He still believed that as long as he hadn’t slept with her, he hadn’t betrayed me.

It was after midnight when I reached Naomi’s house.

I had barely set down my bag when a message from Evelyn appeared on my phone.

I’m sorry things got out of hand tonight. Owen only told me because he worries that after your mother abandoned you, it’s difficult for you to trust any family. I never meant to hurt you.

I had told Owen about my mother the night before.