I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“She told me you two were emotionally separated.”
“We weren’t.”
“I know.”
“She said you barely spoke.”
“We spoke every day.”
“She said you were sleeping separately.”
“We weren’t.”
Melissa wiped her eyes.
“I believed her at first.”
“And later?”
“I stopped believing her.”
“But you kept lying.”
“Yes.”
There was no defense after it.
That helped more than excuses would have.
Then she pulled out bank statements.
Hotel receipts.
Restaurant charges.
A rental application.
I stopped at the apartment.
Two names.
BROOKE LAWSON.
DEREK SLOAN.
Move-in date.
Three weeks away.
The same amount of time Brooke had given me at the party.
A few days.
You’ll come crawling back.
I looked at Melissa.
“They were going to move in together.”
She shook her head.
“That’s what Derek thought.”
“What does that mean?”
Melissa reached deeper into the envelope.
She removed a small leather notebook.
My stomach tightened.
Brooke carried it everywhere.
She called it her planning journal.
Groceries.
Work deadlines.
Travel ideas.
Gift lists.
I had never opened it.
“Where did you get that?”
“She left it at my house.”
Melissa opened a page marked with yellow tape.
Numbers.
Mortgage balance.
Estimated home value.
My salary.
401(k).
Savings.
Investment account.
Truck value.
Life insurance.
Then notes.
MAKE NATHAN FILE.
DO NOT LEAVE FIRST.
STAY IN HOUSE.
PUSH JEALOUSY.
DEREK PUBLIC?
WITNESSES.
I read the page twice.
Then a third time.
“What is this?”
Melissa looked sick.
“She wanted you to leave first.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“She said if she walked out for Derek, everybody would blame her.”
I stared.
“But if she could make you angry enough to leave, she could tell people you abandoned the marriage.”
The party replayed.
Her hand around Derek’s arm.
The comparisons.
The laughter.
The invitation to become angry.
Derek standing there waiting.
“It was bait.”
Melissa nodded.
My voice became quieter.
“She wanted me to lose control.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So she could control the story.”
Melissa looked down.
“She thought you might scream.”
I said nothing.
“Maybe shove Derek.”
Nothing.
“Maybe break something.”
My stomach turned.
“She said she didn’t think you would actually hit anybody.”
“That’s comforting.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t.”
She started crying harder.
“You watched her do it.”
“Yes.”
“You stood ten feet away.”