Chapter 3

I stared at Grant’s message.

Delete those files before you misunderstand them.

He hadn’t asked why I opened the folder or what I had heard. He only wanted the files gone.

I called him.

Grant answered immediately. “Mara, are you still at the apartment?”

“How did you know I found them?”

“The shared account sent me a notification when you removed my devices.” Irritation sharpened his voice. “You signed out my phone and tablet. That account belongs to me too.”

“It’s my work account. You had shared access.”

“Is that really what you care about right now?”

I looked at the equipment cases beside my desk. “Why did you and Brooke record six conversations in my studio?”

Fabric rustled on his end, as if he had moved somewhere more private.

“I didn’t know there were six. She came over a few times to record things, and I helped. You use that room every day. I assumed it saved everything automatically.”

“Last night, you said you recorded one message for the wedding.”

“That’s what I remembered.” He exhaled. “Don’t listen to those files. Any private conversation can sound like an affair when you take it out of context.”

“If there’s nothing wrong with them, why do you want them deleted?”

“Because you’re angry.”

“Six o’clock tonight. You and Brooke can explain together.”

“Brooke isn’t coming. Last night was humiliating enough for her.”

“Then we have nothing to discuss.”

I ended the call and took the memory card and my personal drive back to Tessa’s house.

I didn’t spend the afternoon searching Grant’s phone, bills, or emails.

I only needed to know whether the wedding recording had been one reckless joke or whether they had grown comfortable discussing my marriage behind my back.

I put on my headphones and opened the oldest file.

After a few seconds of microphone noise, Brooke spoke.

“Is she mad at you again?”

Grant laughed. “Mara doesn’t get mad. She goes quiet and makes you guess what you did wrong.”

“Because I called you after midnight?”

“She thinks you depend on me too much.”

Brooke paused. “What am I supposed to do so she stops being so sensitive?”

“Nothing. Mara likes being the mature one. Give her time, and she’ll talk herself out of it.”

I pulled one side of the headphones away from my ear.

The recording was seven months old.

That same week, Grant had missed the dinner celebrating my first audiobook series because Brooke’s heat had stopped working.

He came home carrying flowers and told me I had always understood him better than anyone.

I skipped the next four files and opened the most recent one. It had been recorded two weeks before the wedding.

Brooke’s voice was softer this time.

“If I leave before you say your vows, will you come after me?”

“Don’t start this now.”

“I only want to know.”

Grant didn’t answer. He said, “Mara has waited three years. Let me get through the ceremony first.”

The recording ended there.

He had never said he wouldn’t follow her.

Last night, Brooke had tested him and gotten her answer.

My phone rang while I still had the headphones on.

Brooke’s name appeared on the screen.

“How much did you hear?” she asked as soon as I answered.

“That’s your first question?”

“Grant told me you copied the files.” She drew a breath. “Those were private conversations. They don’t prove anything happened between us.”

“How do you know which recording played at the wedding?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then her voice softened. “When Grant said, ‘Mara always stays,’ he didn’t mean what you think. He meant you wouldn’t destroy your marriage over me.”

“Over you?”

“Over one file that was played by mistake.”

The explanation came too easily. She had clearly repeated it to herself before calling me.

“Six o’clock,” I said. “You and Grant can come here together. If you want to explain, do it in front of each other.”

Brooke gave a quiet laugh. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I’m sure I’m done listening to two different versions.”

The doorbell rang at seven minutes past six.

Grant had said he would come alone.

When I opened the door, Brooke stood beside him.

“She has a right to explain,” Grant said. “This is fair to everyone.”

I stepped aside without arguing.

Brooke sat on the sofa and placed her purse across her knees.

“If you really want to know,” she said, “don’t stop with the recording from the wedding.”