She glanced toward the elevators before lowering her voice.
“Your husband already asked me not to discuss his previous visits with you.”
“Asked you when?”
“This morning.”
My face burned.
“So he came down here before he went out?”
She didn’t answer.
“He knew I might ask.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did he pay you?”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“I’ll pay you more.”
“No.”
I hated myself the second I said it.
She stepped back.
“I can’t help you.”
I walked away shaking.
Robert had lied upstairs, then gone downstairs to make sure no one else told me the truth.
That evening, I sat across from him at dinner pretending everything was fine.
I kept thinking about our 40 years together.
Were we happy?
Or had more of it been built on lies than I realized?
A waiter set down my plate. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
Robert studied the wine list.
Then I noticed a folded piece of paper beneath my plate.
I pulled it free.
Two lines were written on it.
“I know your husband’s secret.”
“Meet me at the back entrance at 11 p.m. Come alone.”
A chill ran through me.
I folded the note and slipped it into my purse.
At 11 p.m., Robert was already in bed watching television.
“I’m going downstairs for some tea.”
“Now?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“I’ll come.”
“No. Stay.”
He studied me, then nodded.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator.
The waiter was waiting outside the back entrance. His name tag read Evan.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” he said.
“Just tell me.”
“I’ve seen your husband here several times.”
My chest tightened.
“With another woman?”
He hesitated. “A young woman.”
After 40 years, there it was.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long has this been happening?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe two years.”
Two years.
We had spent the previous year planning this anniversary while Robert apparently already knew every hallway in the hotel.
“How young is she?”
“Early 20s, maybe.”
I grabbed the railing.
Robert was 65.
I felt sick.
“Did they stay together?”
Continue reading on the next page →
