Chapter 11: The Coat Closet

Bea's POV

I heard my husband not knock for a very long time.

His shadow sat under the door of my room, and every so often it moved a half inch toward the handle and thought better of it.

At last I opened the door myself.

Phillip was standing in the hall with his hand raised and a face that had been caught.

"I was passing," he said.

"You were passing for twenty minutes."

"It's a long hallway."

I waited.

"Tomorrow is our anniversary," Phillip said. "Three years. I've booked a table at eight. Will you come?"

"I'd have to check my calendar."

"I've checked it," he said. "I put it in myself."

I took my phone off the nightstand.

On Thursday at eight p.m., in thick black type, where Willem's blue block used to be, it said: Anniversary. Husband.

My husband had edited my schedule without asking.

I looked at him for a while.

"How did you get into my phone?"

"The password is your mother's birthday," he said. "It's been that since the wedding."

I had no reply to that either.

My phone buzzed.

Willem: Someone moved my Thursday.

I wrote back: I'll make it up to you on Friday.

Willem: Friday is Jax's.

Me: Saturday?

Willem: Is Sterne's.

I turned off the phone.

The restaurant was on the fortieth floor of a hotel, with a view of the whole river and a waiter who spoke only in murmurs.

Phillip had ordered for both of us in advance.

It was everything I liked, down to the order of courses.

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