“Maybe.”
“I am.”
“Maybe last night was the first kiss.”
I folded another shirt.
“Maybe it wasn’t.”
“It was.”
“Maybe those condoms in there had nothing to do with either of you.”
“They didn’t.”
“Maybe Cole brought them for somebody else.”
“He did.”
“Maybe.”
Rachel stared at me.
“You don’t believe anything I say anymore.”
I zipped the bag halfway.
“You keep thinking the problem is whether I can solve every detail.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t need your phone records.”
I looked directly at her.
“I don’t need security footage.”
“I don’t need to know exactly when the flirting started.”
I lifted the bag.
“What I saw is enough.”
Her mouth trembled.
“So you’re ending our marriage because of one kiss?”
That sentence made me stop.
I looked at her for several seconds.
“No.”
Rachel frowned.
“Then what?”
I put the bag down.
“You still don’t understand what hurt me most.”
“What?”
“The moment before the kiss.”
She stared.
“You were sitting on him.”
Rachel looked away.
“I asked you to come over to me.”
“I know.”
“You looked at my face.”
Her eyes filled again.
“You knew I was humiliated.”
She said nothing.
“And you stayed.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“That was a decision.”
“I was embarrassed.”
“So you let me be embarrassed instead?”
“No.”
“That is exactly what happened.”
Rachel sat on the edge of the bed.
“I thought if I stood up immediately everybody would think something was going on.”
I laughed once.
She stopped speaking.
There it was.
The explanation that made everything painfully simple.
“You were more afraid of looking guilty than hurting me.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.”
She covered her face.
“I was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything right now.”
I picked up the bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Steven’s.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I call you?”
“No.”
“Mark.”
“I need space.”
Rachel cried silently.