Chapter Four

11:47 PM

It was 11:15. Damien wasn't home yet.

I stopped sending emails at 9 o'clock. It wasn't because I didn't care; it was because I was tired of seeing two ticks that never turned blue. I was tired of writing messages that would disappear into his pocket. I didn't know who or what he was with. I was sitting on my couch in the dark. My knees were close to my chest. The TV was muted. Then my phone screen lit up. It was a number.

I almost ignored it. I should have ignored it.

"Hello?"

There was silence. Then I heard a voice on the other end of the phone.

"He said he was working late."

"Who are you?" My stomach dropped.

"Please check your email, Mrs. Knight," he said. "That's all for now."

The line went down. I sat there for three seconds. Then I opened my email.

There were 4 photos.

  First: Damien gets out of a car in front of the Meridian Hotel. The timestamp was 11:47 p.m. On Tuesday. When he messaged me that night, he said he was having dinner with a client from Chicago.

   Second: That night in the lobby of the same hotel, Vanessa Hart laughed about something. Her coat was half slung over her shoulders. She looked like a woman who was where she wanted to be.

   Third: We both put our hands on her back. His face looked up. Drew closer. It was too close. Something that didn't happen by chance.

  Fourth: Damien props himself against the elevator door. Smiles. A real smile that I hadn't seen in months.

I put my phone face down.

I picked it up.

Please put it down

Then I called Mara. She answered the phone for the time. That meant she was still awake. She was always awake when I needed her. I didn't know how she did it.

"Aria, it's midnight..."

“I want you to see something and tell me I’m not crazy."

I could hear her sitting down.

“Please send it."

I forwarded her the email. I heard her breathing when she opened it.

"Oh," she said softly.

“Yes"

“Okay," her voice changed. Now it was firmer. Like Mara’s, when things got tough. She decided to be the ground I stand on.

"Okay. Where is he now?"

“Not here."

“Did you call him?”

"No"

“Do you want me to come?

“He'll be home soon." I watched as the front door seemed to open by itself.

"I need to talk to him."

"Aria. Listen to me," she said carefully. As if speaking to someone from a ledge.

"There may be a context to these photos that we don't know about...

"Mara"

"I know...I know...I just..." she whispered. "I'm just scared of you."

“I’m scared myself," I said.

“I need to know. You cannot live in a house with someone without knowing them.

She was silent for a while.

"Call me anytime when you're done."

"I will."

"Aria…don't forget what you saw."

I hung up. I sat in the dark. Waited.

He passed through the door at eleven fifty-two o'clock. His jacket was draped over his arm. His tie was unbuttoned. He had that tiredness after a long night. Tonight I saw him differently. Tonight I saw things differently.

"You're still awake," he said.

"I am"

He dropped his keys on the hallway table. "You should have gone to bed. I told you not to wait."

"You said you were working late."

“I was."

"Where?"

Then he looked at me. Something changed in his face. It wasn't guilt. The man realized that the ground beneath him was unstable.

"The office. I told you."

"You said you were in Chicago on Tuesday. You texted me saying you were having dinner with a client," I said, standing up.

There were two seconds of silence. It felt like two years had passed.

"What is that?"

I flipped the phone over. Put it back. He looked at the screen. His jaw tightened.

“It was the Meridian Hotel," I said, "Tuesday at eleven forty-seven in the evening… Vanessa Hart.

"Aria..."

“Please stop." My voice was still level. That made me proud… “Don’t say my name like that." Don't control me. Please tell me what I'm looking at.

"It's not what it looks like," he said unflinchingly. I didn't like how easy it was. How smooth it was. Almost as if it had been practiced.

"So what is it?"

"It was a business dinner. Edward was scheduled to attend. He canceled at the last minute. He was already booked. Course...

“That made sense," I laughed. Even though it wasn’t funny.

"So it made sense to lie to my wife, take my ex-fiancé to a hotel, and not talk about it?"

"I did not lie, I simplified."

"You simplified," I looked at him. “Damian, I’ve been watching this woman surround you for weeks. When you entered your office, you saw her leaning against your desk as if it were her own. When I told you how I felt, you told me I was overthinking. Now I'm standing here with a picture of you in a hotel with her in the middle of the night. You're telling me you're naive. "

"You're doing the thing you always do. " his voice was rough. Cornered. Seeking control in the way he knew how.

“It takes something and turns it into something not so small. I'm trying to make a deal for $300 million. And of trusting myself..."

“Instead of trusting you." These words are etched deep in my chest.

“I trusted you for three years. I gave up everything for this marriage. My work, my plans, my…" I stopped. I was breathing.

“I trusted you, Damien. That was never a problem. "

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is, you never trusted me," I said quietly.

He opened his mouth. I closed it.

"If you want to believe," he said finally. His voice was as cold and tired as a closing door.

“Then believe me."

I stared at him for a time. A man i got married to on a Tribeca rooftop in the rain. He had become a stranger in that house on East 73rd Street.

I picked up the phone. Walked past him upstairs.

I didn't cry until I got to my room.

Then, as promised, I called Mara.