She looked away. I was scared of what? Of losing you. You were already hiding things from me. She didn't answer.
I watched her for a moment. How long were you talking to him? Her head lifted. What? at the club.
I don't know, Marie. She sighed. Maybe an hour. I stared at her. An hour?
I don't know exactly. You said it was a few minutes. I was embarrassed. So, you changed the story. I didn't mean to.
Did you know him before that night? She hesitated. That hesitation was enough. Marie? Not really.
That's not an answer. She finally looked at me. I had seen him before. Where? through one of the girls.
Which girl? Jessica. I leaned back. Jessica had been one of the women with Marie at our house that night. So, you weren't meeting him for the first time at the club.
No. Had you talked to him before? Once or twice. About what? Nothing important.
I shook my head. You keep saying nothing important. Because it wasn't. Then why hide it? She had no answer.
I looked at her. Did Jessica know you were interested in him? No. Did anyone else know? I don't think so.
Did you give him your number? Marie went completely still. That was when I knew. You did? She looked down.
Yes. When? That night? Before or after you slept with him? She swallowed.
Before? I stared at her. So, you were talking to him, exchanged numbers, kissed him, and then went somewhere with him. Yes. And you came home and told me it was a mistake because you were drunk.
I was drunk. You were also making decisions. Her eyes filled with tears. I didn't plan to sleep with him. Maybe not.
I stood up. But you kept making choices that moved you closer to it. Walter, please. I picked up my jacket. You don't understand.
I understand perfectly. No, I love you. I believe you. She looked at me desperately. Then come back.
I shook my head. You want me to believe that one night didn't matter? She nodded. It mattered enough that I learned who you were when you thought I wasn't there. I left the cafe.
For the first time, I wasn't wondering whether I had made the right decision. I was wondering what else I still didn't know. For the next two weeks, I stopped asking questions. I didn't want to hear another version of the story. The wedding was cancelled.
Marie had moved out. That should have been the end of it. But then something happened that changed how I looked at the whole night. One evening, I was leaving my office when I saw Jessica standing near the entrance. She had been one of Marie's friends that night.
Can we talk? I stopped. About what? She looked uncomfortable. About Marie?