Photographs.
Dozens of them.
Me at twenty-five.
Robert and me on our wedding day.
Our first apartment.
Me holding our daughter as a baby.
The four of us at the beach.
Christmas mornings.
Birthdays.
Thirty-one years of our life displayed around the room.
On one table stood a framed photograph I hadn’t seen in years.
Robert and me outside that very hotel.
On our honeymoon.
I backed away before they could see me.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The woman in the red coat wasn’t his lover.
Her name was Megan.
She was the hotel’s event coordinator.
And the “amazing night” had been a private rehearsal for the anniversary surprise Robert had been planning for months.
But instead of feeling completely relieved, another question immediately entered my mind.
If there was no other woman…
why had my husband been avoiding me for two years?
