“Our marriages.”
There it was.
“He was unhappy too.”
I almost laughed.
“Convenient.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I know how it sounds.”
“How does it sound?”
“Like two people giving themselves permission.”
That was surprisingly honest.
I wrote something down.
She looked.
“What are you writing?”
“Things I want to remember.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday you told me two months.”
She closed her eyes.
“I panicked.”
“And tonight you may tell me June.”
She looked at me.
“I will.”
“Then I’m writing.”
She nodded.
“Continue.”
The first kiss happened two weeks after coffee.
Parking garage.
After training.
She claimed she came home and immediately regretted it.
I asked:
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Did you stop seeing him?”
“No.”
“Then what did regret mean?”
She cried.
“I felt guilty.”
“That’s not the same as stopping.”
“I know.”
I let the phrase pass.
The first hotel was June twenty-eighth.
I looked at her.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell me that night?”
She looked confused.
“I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
Her face changed.
“You told me you had a migraine.”
She covered her mouth.
“You stayed in bed until six.”
“I remember.”
“Then you said you needed air.”
Nothing.
“You drove downtown.”
“Yes.”
I wrote.
July nineteenth.
Hotel again.
August third.
Hotel.
August twenty-second.
Hotel.
September fourteenth.
Receipt.
I looked at her.
“Five times.”
“Yes.”
“And tonight would have been six.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“We booked other rooms.”
I stared.
“How many?”
She looked terrified.
“Two.”
My hand froze over the paper.
“Not overnight.”
“What does that mean?”
“Afternoons.”
I stared at her.
“Day-use.”
“Yes.”
“So seven times.”
“Yes.”
“And last night would have been eight.”
Her tears fell.
“Yes.”
I put the pen down.
I needed my hands free because suddenly holding anything felt dangerous.
Not because I wanted to hurt her.
Because I wanted to throw the pen through the window.
I did not.
I looked at her.
“You stood in this room and told me tonight would be the first time.”
She whispered:
“I was trying to make it easier.”
“For who?”
She did not answer.
“For me?”
Nothing.
“No.”
I shook my head.