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Morgan took a long drink. “This is delicious!” she said appreciatively.
“It is, ain’t it. Well, I’ll give you’uns a few minutes to look over the menu. The special tonight is at the top of the menu—fried pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy, and turnip greens. I’ll be right back now,” she said, as she hurried to another table.
Max looked down at the list of cholesterol-ridden meals and sighed. There was not a healthy choice to be had.
“I’m going to have the special,” Morgan said, closing her menu.
“Me too,” Sebastian said, taking a swig of his drink.
Max looked at them in disbelief. “You’re both eating the pork chops?”
They nodded.
“But they are fried and battered with buttermilk. And the turnip greens are made with ham hocks and fatback. Whipped potatoes with cream. You could have a heart attack right here at the table!”
Sebastian shrugged.
“Yummmm,” Morgan said with a wry smile, rubbing her stomach playfully.
Max turned to Sebastian. “Don’t look at me. When in Rome…”
Max shook his head.
As Millie approached the table, Max asked, “Could I get a strip steak and a salad?”
“Not at this restaurant, hon.”
Max sighed. “I guess I’ll have the special.” His defeat had Millie chuckling and doing a little jig all the way to the kitchen.
“You mind if I ask something kind of personal?” Morgan asked Max.
He furrowed his brow, not knowing what to expect. “What do you want to know?”
“Are you absolutely sure your wife is having an affair?” she asked. “Like you have proof?”
Yeah, that’s personal, he thought, but answered her anyway. “I confronted her, and she didn’t deny it. She wondered why it took me so long to figure it out. Didn’t think I would notice and asked if I wanted her to end it. I never answered because I didn’t want to admit to either of us that I really didn’t care. That was three months ago. We have continued our cordial friendship as if nothing has changed, but we are no longer—close.”
Morgan shook her head disapprovingly. “Wow. That’s no way to live.”
“It is not,” he agreed.
“Okay, so…”
“Morgan, that’s intrusive,” Sebastian interrupted.
“It’s okay. Let her continue.”
“I understand she betrayed your marriage vows, but how does that imply she would try to help get you killed? Don’t you think that’s a huge leap to accuse her without evidence? Maybe your cousin got his information from somewhere else. Didn’t you say you traveled to Charlotte in a private jet? Was it yours?”
“I leased it in Atlanta. My company jet would have been easily traced.”
“Maybe the leasing company verified your identity with someone in your company. They might have wondered why you didn’t use your own plane. Your cousin could have had someone place a tracker on your belongings. Had you followed. Those may be terrible examples, but all I’m saying is you immediately assumed it was your wife who gave your cousin your burner number. Shouldn’t you give her the benefit of the doubt before you find her guilty?”
Max stared at Morgan for a few seconds rubbing his chin, pondering her words. He had assumed Fatima was guilty, and even though his instincts agreed, Morgan had a point about the need for confirmation.
“You make a good argument, Morgan. I need proof.”
They decided to stay at a 3-star, independently owned motel on the outskirts of Winston-Salem, nestled in evergreens against a foothill. Max knew it was the kind of place no one would ever expect to find him. After checking in, they each headed to separate rooms, giving everyone time to decompress.
