The way his shoulders had shifted when I put down the beer.
Almost as if he expected me to step toward him.
I set the phone face-down.
At 6:41 the next morning, a different number appeared.
Melissa Carter.
The host of the party.
I answered.
“Nathan?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to talk to you.”
My stomach tightened.
“About last night?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
She hesitated.
Then said:
“Not on the phone.”
I sat up.
“Why?”
“There’s something you need to see.”
We agreed to meet at a coffee shop at nine.
By 8:52, I had already imagined every possible explanation.
Brooke had kissed Derek.
Brooke had slept with Derek.
Everyone knew.
Melissa had been covering for them.
Maybe she wanted to apologize.
Maybe she wanted to convince me not to destroy my marriage over gossip.
None of those explanations came close.
Melissa sat in the back corner when I arrived.
Normally, she was polished.
Hair done.
Makeup.
Perfect clothes.
That morning she looked like she had not slept.
A large brown envelope sat in front of her.
She stood.
“Nathan.”
“Melissa.”
We did not hug.
I sat.
She placed both hands around her coffee.
Then said:
“Before I show you anything, I need to apologize.”
I waited.
“I lied to you.”
“How many times?”
Her eyes filled.
“More than I can count.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Melissa had been in our house hundreds of times.
Dinner.
Birthdays.
Christmas.
She had hugged Brooke when Brooke's mother died.
She had listened to me talk about work.
She had once told me that Brooke was lucky to have a husband who stayed calm when things got difficult.
Now she was telling me she had been lying.
“You knew about Derek?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
She looked at the envelope.
“Ten months.”
I leaned back.
Ten months.
Not one mistake.
Not one drunken night.
Nearly a year.
Melissa whispered:
“But Derek isn’t the whole thing.”
I stared.
She opened the envelope.
The first stack contained printed screenshots.
Brooke.
Derek.
Messages.
Some flirtatious.
Some explicit enough that I stopped reading after a few lines.
What bothered me most were the dates.
They had started months before I became suspicious.
Months before Brooke started mentioning Derek constantly.
Months before she accused me of jealousy.
Months before she began touching him in front of me like she was conducting experiments on my face.
“You printed these?”
Melissa nodded.
“She logged into her account from my old tablet.”
“And you read them?”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“She asked me to cover for her.”
I waited.
“Brooke would tell you she was with me.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then she’d meet him?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don't know.”
“How many times did you lie for her?”
Melissa started crying.
“I don't know.”
I looked away.
“What did she tell you?”
“That your marriage was basically over.”