Then she said quietly, “Your husband already asked me not to discuss his previous visits with you.”
“Asked you when?”
“This morning.”
My face went hot.
“So he came down here before he went out?”
She didn’t answer.
“He knew I might ask.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did he pay you?”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
“I’ll pay you more.”
“No.”
I hated myself the moment I said it.
The woman stepped back.
“I can’t help you.”
I walked away shaking.
Robert had lied to me upstairs.
Then he had gone downstairs and made sure no one else told me the truth.
That evening, I sat across from him at dinner, pretending everything was fine.
I kept thinking about our 40 years together.
Were we happy?
Or was most of it built on a lie?
A waiter put my plate down. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
Robert was looking at the wine list.
I noticed a folded piece of paper sticking out from beneath my plate.
