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keep me around for a reason only God could understand. That wasn’t true either – he kept me around so he didn’t lose his precious money.
       My eyes widened as a new thought occurred to me. Did the other woman know about me? I wanted to believe that she didn’t, that she couldn’t. I hoped she was just as blind to his transgressions as I had been. I didn’t want to think one woman could do that to another. At this point, the sisterhood was the only thing in which I had any faith left.
       I heard the door open and I stopped breathing, as the sound of my breaths was interfering with my ability to hear the faint sounds of him entering the house. I listened as he closed the door and then I heard some rustling, which I figured was him setting his things down. When I heard his footsteps head down the hall toward his office, I let out my breath quietly. My lungs were burning and my heart was pounding. I took in a few gulping breaths to try to let my lungs relax, and then, before I knew what I was doing and could stop myself, I pulled the covers back and walked down the stairs toward Derrek.
       When I made it to the doorway, I stalled, still unwillingly captivated by how handsome he was. He was standing behind his desk, pulling the tie loose from around his neck. He was wearing gray suit pants with a shiny black belt, a white button up shirt that looked wrinkled, as if he’d been wearing it for a while, and the tie he was pulling from his neck was black as well.
       “You’re home,” I said softly. I hadn’t intended to speak to him. Hell, I hadn’t intended to walk down here at all. But I was also acutely aware that I wasn’t fully in control of my mind, body, or mouth at the moment.
       “It would seem so,” he said, without meeting my eyes.
       “Where did you go?”
       “Out of town on business.” His words were cold, stale, and stone-like. I tried to read into them, tried to figure out whether he was lying and discern if he’d really been away for pleasure. His eyes still weren’t meeting mine as he sat down in his chair and put his thumb and forefinger up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it.
       “Did you get a lot done?” My voice was calm and smooth. Part of me was still hoping he’d been away on business.
       “Lena…”
       He didn’t want to talk.
       “Will you be coming to bed?” I had no idea why I asked that question. There were two reasons why that question was completely unnecessary. One: I already knew the answer was no. I already knew he wouldn’t be coming to our bed. He would probably never be in that bed again, and I knew that. And two: I didn’t want him in our bed. I was almost sure I didn’t want him in our bed. What I wanted was to go to sleep and wake up, having the last five years of my life be a sick and twisted nightmare. I wanted to wake up to the husband who I loved, the husband who honored our vows, and didn’t sneak away for weekend getaways with other women and his love children.
       He didn’t want to talk. So he didn’t. He never answered my question, just clicked his computer on and continued to ignore me, pretending to be interested in whatever had appeared on his screen.
       Watching him completely shut me out flipped some sort of switch inside my body. The very last piece of me that was holding out for some sort of understanding, some sort of resolution that included saving my marriage, faded away right into the darkness that filled every room of our house.
       I turned and walked back up the stairs and climbed into my cold bed, falling into sleep as I contemplated how I was going to move forward. Unfortunately, all of those thoughts circled around Preston Reid.
     
       The next day, I went to work as if it were any other day of the week. I had a comfortable position at a lucrative and expanding marketing firm in Portland. Derrek would have preferred me to sit on the board of a charity, or spend my time doing more social