Chapter 2 - The Ride Home
I don't remember saying goodbye.
I remember putting our two children in the car.
I remember Michael following me across the driveway.
“Sarah, please. Let me explain before you decide what this is.”
I turned on him.
“What this is?”
The kids were already buckled in, watching us through the back window.
So I lowered my voice.
“You let my sister kiss you in front of everyone.”
“It was stupid.”
“You texted her.”
“Mostly joking.”
“You met her at a hotel.”
His jaw tightened.
“That was business.”
I stared at him.
“My sister doesn't work with you.”
He said nothing.
That silence told me more than any confession could have.
“Get your own ride home.”
“Sarah—”
“No.”
For the first time in ten years, I shut a car door in my husband's face.
Halfway home, my daughter, Emily, asked from the back seat, “Mom, why was Aunt Rachel kissing Dad?”
My throat closed.
“She made a bad choice.”
“Did Dad make one too?”
I looked at her in the mirror.
Eight years old.
Watching me carefully.
“Yes,” I said. “He did.”
When we reached home, I sent the kids upstairs to change.
Then my phone buzzed.
Tom.
I answered.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s more.”
I sat down slowly.
“How much more?”
“Enough that I didn't want the kids hearing it at the party.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell me.”
Tom exhaled.
“I found a second phone in Rachel's gym bag.”
My stomach turned.
“And Sarah?”
“Yes?”
“Michael's number wasn't saved under his name.”
“What was it saved as?”
May you like
Tom was quiet for one beat too long.
“Future.”
