Chapter 8: Snow

"Your wife," I said.

The frame was still in my hand, and the glass was cold against my fingers.

"For four years," Rhys said. "We got married at the courthouse in June. She asked me to keep it quiet."

"Why?"

"Her work. She said her audience wanted her single and her own."

"Her audience." I laughed, and it came out wrong. "And you said yes."

"I said yes."

"To four years."

"Yes."

He stood very still in the hall, holding a roll of gauze.

It looked like the only thing he had left to offer.

"Did you know?" I asked. "Thursday. When I walked up to you in the hallway, did you know who I was?"

He didn't pause.

"Yes."

I put the frame down on the console table, face up, on purpose.

"I saw it from the ice," he said.

"I was at center, still shaking hands, and the screen went pink."

"I saw her pull him down, and I knew him as Delaney's friend Colby."

"Then I saw you with the cups."

"Then I saw you in that hallway, and I couldn't find the words."

"I'd been trying to work out how to say it to you."

"You had a whole ride to the house to find them."

My voice shook, and I hated it.

"I thought you'd earned the truth about him first."

"Hallie."

"You sat next to me while I watched her kiss my husband, and you didn't tell me she'd kissed yours."

His face hardened, and then it didn't.

"I was going to tell you in this house," he said.

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