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He jumped. “Shit! You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“What are you doing, sitting there in the dark?”
“I was waiting for you,” I started to explain, but he was already halfway up the stairs.
“There was a lot of traffic,” he said, throwing the words over his shoulder like a handful of salt. “It was stop and start the whole way home.” He came to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs. “And just so you know, I was alone. Wren stayed at the cottage with her parents. Who are lovely people, by the way.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“They put on one hell of an event.”
“I’m glad. Look. I’m sorry about our misunderstanding,” I began, following him to our bedroom.
“The misunderstanding,” he repeated, as if the word was new to him.
“I honestly don’t remember you telling me you’d be giving Wren a lift. It doesn’t matter,” I said before he could interject. “The point is that I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything, and I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” he said, although from his tone it was clear that we were apologizing for different things. Clearly, as far as he was concerned, he’d done nothing wrong.Iwas sorry for my behavior, andhewas sorry for my behavior. So maybe we were apologizing for the same thing after all.
“So, how was it?” I asked again.
He started to undress. “Great. By all accounts, I was a huge hit.”
“I’m not surprised.” I turned away, remembering how just last night I’d watched another man undress.
I’d even helped.
“How many people?” I asked, banishing the unwanted image with a shake of my head.
“Well, it varied, of course, depending on the venue,” Harrison said, warming to his subject. “There were at least two hundred people at Saturday night’s event.”
“That’s terrific.”
“Even better, they all bought books. I was up half the night signing them.”
And the other half?I wondered. “That’s so great,” I said.
He disappeared into the bathroom. I undressed and climbed into bed, part of me hoping we’d make love, the other part praying that we wouldn’t. Would Harrison be able to tell that I’d been with another man?
Would he care?
“So, what did you do while I was gone?” he asked as he reentered the room, turning off the overhead light and crawling beneath the covers.
I’d be wrestling all night with whether or not to confess my infidelity and beg his forgiveness. For my lack of trust, my lapse in judgment, my weakness, my stupidity. Yes, there were reasons why I’d been unfaithful, but none of those reasons mattered.
All that mattered were facts.
And the fact was that it wasn’t my husband who’d been unfaithful. It was me.
I knew that forgiveness had never come easily for Harrison. And I knew that if I confessed my affair, my marriage would be over.
I couldn’t take that risk.
“Not much,” I said. “Took the kids swimming, watched a movie, had pizza for dinner.” Not a complete lie. Still, a long way from the truth.
“I’m sure they enjoyed that.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then laid his head on the pillow next to mine.
