Chapter 2 - The Guest Room

Aaron was sitting at the kitchen island when I walked in with my parents behind me.

He looked as if he had not slept.

My father set my overnight bag near the stairs.

“Claire,” Aaron said.

“Don’t.”

His eyes moved to my parents.

“Can we have five minutes alone?”

My father looked at me.

“If you want privacy, we’ll be in the sitting room.”

“I do.”

My mother touched my arm.

“You call once, we come back.”

Aaron waited until their footsteps disappeared.

Then he stood.

“You humiliated me in front of my entire company.”

I put my purse on the counter.

“That is the first thing you want to say?”

“No. It’s the first thing I can say without shouting.”

“Try the truth instead.”

“I did not sleep with Jasmine.”

“Where did you sleep?”

His jaw tightened.

“Claire.”

“Five nights. Where?”

He looked toward the floor.

That was answer enough.

I laughed once, without humor.

“You stayed at her place.”

“Twice.”

I stared at him.

“Twice?”

“The other nights were different.”

“That is not the defense you think it is.”

He dragged a hand across his face.

“October fourteenth, we had the Denver team in town. I slept at the Four Seasons because the dinner ran past two.”

“November second?”

“Jasmine’s condo.”

“December eleventh?”

“The company apartment in Back Bay.”

“January twenty-third?”

“Jasmine’s condo.”

“And last night?”

He did not answer.

“Aaron.”

“Her condo.”

The room felt suddenly very large.

“Three times, then.”

“She had a guest room.”

“Congratulations on the architecture.”

“Nothing happened.”

“You disappeared all night to another woman’s home and didn’t call your wife.”

“I was drunk the first time.”

“And the second?”

He flinched.

“The second time I didn’t want to come home and fight.”

“So you went to her.”

“Yes.”

The word landed harder than denial.

I folded my arms.

“And last night?”

He looked at me for so long that my skin went cold.

“We kissed.”

The kitchen clock ticked behind me.

I heard every second.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Before you went to her condo or after?”

“At the office.”

“Who started it?”

He closed his eyes.

“I did.”

I turned away.

“Claire, she stopped me.”

I laughed again.

“You want credit because the other woman had boundaries?”

“She told me to go home.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I was ashamed.”

“You were ashamed, so you followed her home?”

“I was drunk. I slept on the couch.”

“That sentence is so pathetic I almost believe it.”

He stepped closer.

“I swear to you, I never had sex with her.”

I held up a hand.

“Do not come closer.”

He stopped.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth you should have said before I had to embarrass myself to discover it.”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“No, Aaron. You were protecting yourself from consequences.”

His shoulders dropped.

“Maybe.”

The admission made me angrier.

“You kept choosing her.”

“She was there.”

“So was I.”

He looked at me.

“You stopped talking to me.”

“After I learned talking changed nothing.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Fair?”

My voice rose.

“Do you remember my birthday?”

He said nothing.

“Do you remember what you texted me?”

“I was in Vermont.”

“You said, ‘Rain check. Jasmine’s presentation blew up.’”

“She was about to lose a major client.”

“And I was your wife.”

“I know.”

“No. You know it now because there are suitcases in your lobby.”

His phone vibrated on the counter.

JASMINE.

Aaron turned the screen facedown.

“That right there,” I said quietly. “That reflex. That is why we’re done.”

He did not touch the phone.

“I can cut all contact outside work.”

“You run a company together.”

“She reports to me, but we can restructure.”

“I don’t want you to restructure your company for me.”

“Then what do you want?”

“A divorce.”

He stared at me.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I hired Nathan.”

That hit him.

“Brooks?”

“Yes.”

“You hired Nathan Brooks against me?”

“I hired my friend to represent me.”

“He hates Prescott Global.”

“He represented three executives your company terminated.”

“Exactly.”

“That does not make him your enemy.”

Aaron paced to the window.

“What did you tell him?”

“Everything relevant.”

“About us?”

“About the marriage.”

He turned.

“The settlement asks only for premarital property and a split of jointly titled assets.”

“Yes.”

“You’re walking away from spousal claims.”

“I don’t need your money.”

He looked at me strangely.

“For three years, you never cared about any of it.”

“I cared about you.”

His expression broke for a second.

“Claire.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t make that face now.”

“What face?”

“The one that finally notices I’m leaving.”

From the sitting room, my mother’s voice carried softly.

“Claire?”

“I’m fine.”

Aaron lowered his voice.

“Please don’t go tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Hope flashed across his face.

I killed it.

“You are.”

He stared.

“This is my house too.”

“Your clothes are packed. You can stay at the company apartment.”

“You spent months acting like this home was optional.”

He had no answer.

I went to the hallway and picked up the spare badge I had forgotten to leave at headquarters.

I held it out.

“Take this.”

He accepted it slowly.

“What is it?”

“Your executive badge.”

“You returned one this morning.”

“That was the spare from your desk drawer.”

He looked down at the badge.

Then at me.

“Were you planning this?”

“No.”

“That’s worse.”

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

Finally, he picked up the overnight bag.

At the door, he stopped.

“I love you.”

I closed my eyes.

“I believe you think you do.”

His face went pale.

“That is cruel.”

“No, Aaron. Cruel was making me feel alone while sleeping in another woman’s home.”

He left.

The door clicked shut.

My mother came into the foyer.

“Do you want me to say anything?”

I leaned against her shoulder.

“No.”

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She held me.

And for the first time since I pressed Send at 3:17 in the morning, I cried.