Oh My Husband and Best Friend Betrayed Me So I Slept With Her Husband and Ruined Them novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Good Night, Babe

Valeria lets Brett hold her, then finds the hotel garage ticket, a room-service receipt and Lila's hair tie in his car. At breakfast he says Lila is coming to brunch on Sunday.

I got into bed at midnight and left the lamp on.

I lay on my back in the house we bought four years ago, under the quilt Brett's mother gave us, and listened for the Audi.

My phone sat face down on my chest.

At ten past one I heard the garage door.

I turned the lamp off and closed my eyes.

Keys landed in the dish by the door.

He took a long time on the stairs, and I knew why.

He was carrying his shoes so I wouldn't hear him.

The bedroom door opened, and he stood there for a moment in the hall light.

"Nor?" he whispered. "You awake?"

I let him think I was asleep.

I smelled him when he got closer.

It wasn't our soap.

It was a hotel soap, something with lemon in it, and under it was a faint sweet note of perfume.

Lila wears the same vanilla she has worn since college.

I bought her a bottle of it for her twenty-first birthday.

Brett slid into bed behind me and put his arm over my waist.

"Hi, babe," he murmured into my hair. "Missed you so much."

I made myself turn over.

The streetlight caught his face, tired and soft and sorry-looking, and for one second I forgot to hate him.

Then I remembered the elevator.

"You're back," I said. My voice came out rough with sleep. "How was Denver?"

"Dull," he said. "Seven hours of slides about liability caps."

"Poor thing."

"I know." He kissed my forehead. "Poor me."

I put my hand on his chest and felt his heart going slow and even.

It was not the heart of a man who was lying.

That was what frightened me.

"I love you," he said.

My mouth had made those words for eight years, and it made them again before I had decided to.

"Love you too."

He was asleep in five minutes.

I waited another twenty, counting his breaths.

Then I slid out from under the quilt and went down to the garage in my socks.

The Audi's engine was still ticking as it cooled.

I opened the driver's door and the dome light came on.

His work duffel sat on the back seat.

His carry-on, the one with the airline tag from March, had stayed in the hall closet all week.

In the cup holder lay a paper ticket.

I held it up to the light.

CALLOWAY HOTEL GARAGE, it said. IN 5:52 PM. OUT 12:41 AM.

My husband had been in Denver all day, and he had paid for seven hours of parking four blocks from my favorite restaurant.

I photographed the ticket twice.

On the floor mat behind the seat was his gym bag.

I unzipped it.

Gym shorts, a towel, and a paper receipt folded into a square.

I opened it on my knee.

Calloway Room Service. Two eggs benedict, one fruit plate, one club soda, one chocolate cake with two forks.

It was dated last Tuesday, the day he had told me he was working late.

Under the receipt lay a hair tie.

A black one, with a long honey-blonde hair wound around it.

I held the hair against the dome light and it shone gold.

I took a photo of that too.

Then I put each thing back exactly where it had been, and closed the bag, and shut the car door with the flat of my hand so it wouldn't click.

Upstairs I lay down beside him again.

He rolled toward me in his sleep and I let him.

I didn't sleep.

At six I made coffee, because I always make coffee at six.

Brett came down at seven in his work shirt with his hair wet, humming.

He kissed the back of my neck at the counter.

"Smells great."

"Eggs?" I asked.

"Just toast," he said, and I almost laughed.

I buttered it for him.

He stood next to me with his phone in his hand and read something that made him smile and then put it face down.

"So," he said, bright. "Did you and Tony sort out the party stuff?"

"Mostly. He wants a caterer, and a band."

"Great. Great." He took a bite. "He seem okay? Weirdly quiet, I thought."

My knife stopped in the butter.

"When did you see Tony?"

"Last week. At their dinner."

"Right," I said.

"Anyway." He brushed crumbs off his shirt. "Lila's coming to brunch Sunday. She misses you."

I looked at him across my own kitchen.

"I miss her too," I said.

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