Chapter 11: The Photo

"Don't get up," Cora said. "You look so comfortable."

Eli sat up and put himself between the door and Matilda, and pulled the quilt over her shoulder.

"You're filming," he said.

"I'm documenting. It's different." Cora tilted the phone. "Smile, Tillie."

"Turn it off."

"It's my husband in my husband's loft. Thank you for confirming everything."

"Confirming what?" Matilda asked.

"That you started first."

Cora lowered the phone, tapped the screen and held it up so that they could see.

The post was already up.

It showed the two of them on the couch in the pale light, with a caption underneath.

My husband and my best friend, six days after she walked out on hers. Some people can't wait for the ink to dry.

Matilda sat very still.

"You've been in Zach's bed," she said. "For a year."

"Prove it."

"I heard you in my own."

"You heard a man talk in his sleep." Cora smiled, and her eyes were perfectly dry. "Nobody believes that. Everyone believes this."

She dropped her key on the kitchen counter and walked out.

Her heels went away down the three flights, light and quick.

Eli was already pulling on his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'd have changed the lock."

"You didn't know she'd come."

"I should have known."

Matilda found her own clothes on the floor, and she dressed with her back to him, shaking with anger and a little with shame.

It was not that she was ashamed of the night.

She was ashamed that Cora had been the one to see it.

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