Chapter 4: The Name She Didn't Want Me to See
I didn't say anything about the phone.
Not yet.
I poured two glasses of water — more to have something to do with my hands than anything else — and set one in front of her.
She didn't touch it.
"I think you should go," I said.
"We haven't finished talking."
"You haven't answered a single question I've asked.
That's not a conversation."
She crossed her arms.
"Fine.
You want honesty?
I panicked.
When you told me about the job, I panicked.
I know that wasn't fair.
But I'm here now, and I'm trying to talk to you."
"You're trying to find out about the inheritance."
"Both things can be true."
I almost laughed.
"That's the most honest thing you've said since you walked back in."
She looked down at the table.
Her fingers moved to the edge of the letter, then stopped.
"My mother told me to come back," she said quietly.
"I figured."
"She said if there was money involved—" She stopped herself.
"Go on."
"She said I should make sure I was still in the picture."
The words sat between us like something dropped from a height.
I looked at my wife — the woman I had loved, provided for, protected — and I understood, clearly and without any remaining doubt, that I was not looking at someone who had come back for me.
"So your mother sent you."
"It's not like that."
"She told you there might be money, and you drove straight here."
"I would have come back anyway."
"When?"
She didn't answer.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time I was closer.
I didn't mean to see the name on the screen — it was face-up on the counter between us and the notification was visible for two full seconds before she grabbed it.
The name was Derek.
I knew a Derek.
We both did.
He was a friend of her brother's.
He'd been at our wedding.
He'd sat at table four, near the back, and I remembered thinking he'd looked at Sienna a beat too long during the first dance.
I hadn't thought about that in years.
"Who's Derek?" I asked.
The color left her face.
"He's nobody."
"He's texting you at ten in the morning on a Tuesday."
"He's a friend."
"Of yours or your brother's?"
She picked up the phone and put it in her pocket.
"This isn't relevant."
"You just told me your mother sent you here to protect your financial position.
A man named Derek is texting you.
And you're telling me it's not relevant."
"You're twisting everything."
"I'm repeating what happened in the last ten minutes."
She stood up.
"I came here to work things out.
If you're going to treat me like a suspect, I'll leave."
"You already know how to do that," I said.
She flinched.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
She walked toward the door, then stopped with her hand on the frame.
"Call the law firm," she said, without turning around.
"Whatever you decide — just don't do anything permanent until we've talked properly."
She left before I could answer.
I stood in the kitchen for a long moment.
Then I picked up my phone and called the law firm.
May you like
But before I did, I opened my contacts and found a different number first — one I hadn't used in two years.
My uncle Gerald's lawyer wasn't the only person who knew things about my marriage that I didn't.
