Chapter 5: Breakfast for Three
I didn't sleep well.
Gary did, eventually — I could hear his breathing slow and even out sometime after two in the morning.
I lay beside him and watched the ceiling and thought about the word *more.*
*A few more things I'd like to share.*
She had come prepared.
That was the part I kept returning to.
Not the photo, not the lie, not even the ten years of quiet hostility.
The preparation.
The folder.
The backup copy.
The timing.
She had chosen this trip, this distance from home, this particular anniversary, and she had packed her ammunition right alongside her swimsuits.
By seven I was dressed.
Gary woke when I opened the balcony door to let in the air.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"Not much."
He sat up.
"We don't have to go to breakfast."
"Yes we do," I said.
"If we don't show up, she wins the morning.
She'll spend it deciding what the next move is.
I'd rather be in the room."
He looked at me carefully.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to let her show me what else she has."
Donna was already seated when we arrived at the dining room.
She had chosen a table near the window, away from the other passengers, with three place settings already arranged.
She looked rested.
She had ordered coffee and a fruit plate and she was cutting a piece of melon into small, precise squares when we sat down.
"Good morning," she said pleasantly.
"Morning," Gary said.
I said nothing.
I poured myself coffee and waited.
Donna set down her fork.
"I want to start by saying that I don't enjoy this.
I'm not doing this to cause trouble.
I'm doing this because I love my son and I think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married."
"Then tell him something true," I said.
Her eyes moved to me.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The photo was cropped.
Rachel confirmed it last night.
Patrick had a girlfriend.
There were fifteen people at that dinner." I set my coffee cup down.
"So if you have something else, go ahead and show it.
Because so far the only thing you've proven is that you've been collecting things about me for ten years and waiting for the right moment to use them."
Donna's jaw tightened.
She reached into her bag.
She placed a folded document on the table.
Gary reached for it.
She put her hand on top of it.
"This is between me and Gary," she said.
"Whatever is on that paper affects my marriage," I said.
"So it's between all three of us.
Put it on the table or put it away."
A long moment.
Then she lifted her hand.
Gary unfolded it.
I leaned in to read.
It was a printout of a social media profile.
A private account, but someone had taken a screenshot of a single post — a photo of me from what looked like a work event, maybe five years ago.
I was holding a glass of wine.
A man I didn't immediately recognize had his arm around my shoulders.
The caption on the post, written by someone else, said: *Great night with the whole crew.*
"That's my colleague Dennis," I said.
"That's our company's annual dinner.
There are forty people in that photo if you scroll right."
"You told Gary you were working late that night," Donna said.
"I was working.
The annual dinner is a work event."
"You told him you'd be home by nine."
"I was home by ten-fifteen.
Gary, do you remember this?"
Gary was still looking at the printout.
"I remember you came home later than you said."
"By an hour and fifteen minutes.
From a work dinner."
"You didn't mention the dinner."
"Because it wasn't interesting.
It was a work obligation.
I went every year."
Donna folded her hands on the table.
"A pattern," she said quietly, "is not one photo.
A pattern is several small things that don't quite add up."
"A pattern," I said, "is a mother-in-law who has been building a file on her son's wife for a decade, waiting for a cruise in the middle of the ocean to open it."
Gary put the printout down.
"Mom.
Where did you get these?"
"I have my sources."
"Who gave you a screenshot of a private social media account?"
Donna's chin lifted slightly.
"Someone who cares about you."
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
Gary leaned forward.
"Mom.
Who has been sending you things about my wife?"
The melon sat untouched on her plate.
Outside the window, the ocean was bright and flat and going nowhere.
"His name," Donna said carefully, "is not something I'm prepared to share right now."
May you like
Gary pushed back from the table and stood up.
"Then we're done with breakfast," he said.
