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The room spins. I lean against the wall. Struggle to inhale. The paper could belong to anyone. I took clothes from all the bedrooms. But Nadia and Dakota always exchange contact information on their phones. Writing down a number is a foreign concept to them. It’s something from Peter’s and my generation—not that I can remember the last time I did it.
I take slow, deep breaths. Something I’ve been doing entirely too much of lately.
Do people still give notes with their information in bars? That was where I usually got numbers when I was single. Doesn’t everyone use dating apps these days? Those are probably safer, as they use background checks. Not that I’d know. After Bryant, I hadn’t been looking to ever have another relationship until Megan set me up with Peter. He was college roommates with her brother, and she had the insight to see that we were perfect for each other. My best friend knows me better than anyone else.
None of that matters. I need to figure out who Jane is, and why Peter has her number. It doesn’t make any sense. It can’t be what it looks like. Maybe she gave him her number, and he shoved it in his pocket intending to toss it. Or she might’ve slid it in there without him noticing. It’s possible she gave him the number for a completely innocent reason. Why would he leave it in his pocket if he had something to hide? He isn’t dumb.
One of those scenarios must be what happened. He would never leave that in a pocket for me to find. Not that I would suspect him of cheating. Guys who cheat don’t give shoulder rubs to or pour glasses of wine and offer to start bubble baths for their stressed wives.
I would know. Bryant treated me like garbage the entire time we were together. Time he spent wooing other women.
My blood boils at the thought. Not that I care what my ex does, but because I refuse to be put in that position again.
What am I going to do? I can’t accuse Peter, and even bringing up the scrap of paper could seem like I don’t trust him. I mean, I don’t even know that it came from his pocket.
I’ll have to find out if either Nadia or Dakota have a friend name Jane. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an eye on Peter and see if he starts acting suspicious.
Why is everything unraveling? None of this makes any sense. All I want is to live my life in peace. Is that really so much to ask? I don’t want people accusing me of having an eating disorder or making me think my husband is stepping out on me.
Maybe what I need is a vacation. We didn’t go anywhere this summer other than a few weekend camping trips locally. The holidays will be here before we know it, so maybe I should plan a fun outing. I’ve heard Disney is a great place around Christmas. I could easily spend the next few months planning something like that. The kids would remember that forever, and it would give Peter and me time away from all the other adults.
It’s perfect. I’ll start looking into that now.
I return to my phone in the kitchen. Megan sent another text and wants to get together for breakfast. That’s the perfect solution. Not only will I have more time with her, but it’ll provide the distraction I desperately need.
Before I can reply, the deadbolt clicks unlocked.
Relief washes through me. Peter is finally back.
I check the food before rushing to the door.
Owen and Sophie throw their arms around me, talking a mile a minute about all the fun they had with Daddy.
I wish I could say I had fun. I’m spinning in circles, trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
Peter wraps me in a warm embrace and kisses me passionately.
“Ew!” The kids giggle and scamper from the room.
That was not the kiss of a man unhappy in his marriage. Peter loves me, and if anything was wrong, he would talk to me like a rational human. We would work out any issue between us. He wouldn’t go looking for love somewhere else.
Sophie returns and drags me to the table, begging for food.
Peter laughs. “Looks like you didn’t need to worry about ruining their dinner.”
“I wasn’t worried.” I fill plates for the kids as Peter gets his own food.
“Sorry you had to eat alone,” he says, when I sit at the table with only a glass of water.
“It’s fine. You guys were having fun.”
“We sure were.” Owen beams. “Daddy took us to the park with the giant climber. I almost made it to the top! Maybe next time I will.”
My eyes widen, and I glance at my husband. “The top? Really?”
“Owen’s quite the climbing machine. Our boy is growing up.”
It makes my stomach knot thinking about him traveling that high, but it’s the least of my concerns. The park is designed to be safe for kids, and I have enough other things to worry about.
