"You've said that before."
"I know. And I broke that promise." He drops his gaze to his hands. "I've been breaking promises since New York."
I wait.
"The kiss," he starts, and I hate how my stomach lurches at the word. "It happened in her hotel room. We were both drunk—hammered, really—and she was dancing. She kissed me, and I..." He exhales shakily. "I kissed her back."
I've heard this before, just not in this much detail. In our kitchen, when I was screaming at him, when my world was shattering around me. But hearing it now, in this quiet room with Katrina as witness, it hits differently.
She was dancing with her perfect body formyhusband. The man she’s always wanted. God, I bet she is loving this. Knowing that she’s finally had him.
"What else?”
"After the kiss, I told her it was wrong. I remember that clearly—I pulled back and said we had to stop."
Aww, bless him.
"And then?"
"Then I..." He pauses, and I watch something flicker across his face, but I don’t care what it is. "I collapsed in the chair. I was so fucking drunk I could barely stand. The room was spinning, and I remember closing my eyes and then—nothing. Blackness until I woke up to see your face on my phone."
The question burns in my throat. I've been carrying it since last night, since I lay in Katrina's guest room imagining my husband's body with Mila's. I can feel Katrina’s eyes on me, knowing what I’m going to ask.
What any woman in my position would ask.
I brace myself and meet my husband’s eyes. “Did you fuck her?"
Devon's head snaps up, his eyes wide with horror. "No. God, no, Jade?—"
"How do you know? You said you blacked out. You said you don't remember. How do you know you didn't?—"
"Because I know." He leans forward, searching my eyes. "I know my body. I would have felt it, remembered something. I woke up fully clothed in that fucking chair with my back killing me?—"
The memory of the video call slices through me. "She was in nothing but a silky robe, Devon. She probably didn’t sleep in it. So, she must’ve slept naked. If nothing happened, how was she naked?”
"I don't know." His voice breaks. "I don't know why she was—I wasn't looking at her; I was trying to figure out where the fuck I was?—"
"She says you did more. She's been texting you, telling you things happened that you don't remember."
Devon’s shoulders tense.
"Yeah," I continue, my voice hardening. "You told me that during our fight. Before I walked out."
"She's lying." His voice is raw. "She has to be lying, because I don't—I can't?—"
"Can't what? Can't remember?" I laugh bitterly. "That's convenient, isn't it?"
"Jade. I swear to you on everything I love—on us, on our marriage—I didnothave sex with Mila. The kiss was wrong and horrible enough. If I'd done more, I would tell you. What's the point of hiding anything else when you already know the worst of me?"
I stare at him, searching his face for the lie. For the flicker of deception I've learned to recognize over fifteen years together.
I don't see it.
But I didn't see it before, either. When he looked me in the eye and swore nothing had happened.
"I want to believe you," I whisper. "I want to believe you so badly it hurts.”
"Then believe me. Please."
