Chapter 2: Mia's Name

"Elena."

She said it first. Before Ash. The woman on my bed said my name like she'd been waiting for the chance, no question mark on it at all.

"How does she know my name?"

The question came out of me flat, aimed at Ash, not at her. He was still buttoning his shirt, unhurried.

"Elena… "

"Don't." I held up a hand, steadier than I expected. "Don't say my name like that. Like you're about to talk me down from something."

He stopped buttoning. Something flickered across his face that almost looked like an apology trying to surface. Then it was gone, smoothed over the way he smoothed over everything … a bad quarterly report, a canceled reservation, a wife standing in the doorway of her own bedroom.

The woman reached for a robe draped over my chair. The one I sat in every morning to put on my shoes.

"I'm Mia," she said, like the introduction was just a formality. Like the important part … knowing exactly who I was … she'd already taken care of.

Just like that. As if we were meeting at one of Ash's galas instead of standing on either side of the bed I'd shared with him for six years.

"I didn't ask," I said.

"I know." She tied the robe at her waist, unbothered. "I just thought you should have something to call me. Since we'll probably be seeing more of each other."

I laughed … short, disbelieving. "We will not be seeing more of each other."

"Elena." Ash again, my name in his mouth like a leash. "Let's not do this in front of… "

"In front of her?" I turned on him so fast he stepped back. "She's already in front of everything. She's in my bed. What's left for her not to be in front of?"

He didn't answer. He never answered the questions that actually mattered … I'd noticed that years ago and told myself it was just how he processed things. I'd been telling myself a lot of things, apparently.

Mia moved past me toward the door. Not fast. Not guilty. Like this had simply run its course.

"I'll give you two a minute," she said.

"You don't have to leave on my account. I'm sure you two have plenty more to discuss. Like which one of you explains this to me first."

She paused in the doorway, and looked back … not at Ash, at me. Something in her expression wasn't a triumph. It was a pity, and that was worse.

"He'll have an explanation," she said. "He always does."

Then she was gone, her bare feet quiet on the hallway floor, a door clicking shut down the hall like she lived here.

I turned back to Ash. He'd finished with his shirt, hands loose at his sides, watching me the way you'd watch weather.

"How long."

It wasn't really a question.

"Elena, it's not…"

"How long, Ash."

He exhaled. For a moment I thought he might actually tell me the truth. Instead he said, "Does it matter?"

I stared at him. Six years, and he was asking if it mattered how long he'd been lying to my face.

"It matters to me," I said. "That's usually how marriage works."

"That's rich." Something in his voice hardened, like he'd been waiting for an opening. "You want to talk about what matters? When's the last time you asked how my day was and actually waited for the answer?"

"Don't." My voice cracked, and I hated it. "Don't make this about me."

"I'm telling you the truth, since apparently that's what you want." He crossed his arms. "This marriage has been over for a long time, Elena. You just weren't paying enough attention to notice."

The words landed under my ribs and stayed there. I thought about all the nights I'd waited up with dinner going cold. All the mornings I'd told myself his distance was stress, was work. I thought about the anniversary trip he'd canceled twice, the way he'd stopped reaching for my hand in the car. I had noticed every one of those absences. I had just refused to believe what they meant.

"So what," I said, "you just stopped loving me and didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

"I didn't stop loving you," he said, softer, almost convincing. "We grew apart. It happens. It's not some great betrayal."

"You were in our bed. With another woman. While I was at work thinking you were at yours. Don't stand there and tell me that's just what happens to people."

He looked away, toward the window. I watched him do the thing he always did when a conversation stopped going his way … check out behind his own eyes, leaving me talking to the shell of a man who used to actually listen.

"I need you to leave," I said. "Tonight."

"This is my apartment too, Elena."

"I don't care whose name is on the lease. I can't be in this room." My voice shook now, finally. "I need you gone before I have to look at that bed again."

He studied me for a long moment, and I couldn't tell if what I saw was regret or irritation at being inconvenienced. Then he nodded, like he was agreeing to move a meeting.

"Fine. I'll stay at the office apartment tonight. We can talk tomorrow when you've calmed down."

"I am calm," I said, though we both knew it was a lie.

He walked past me toward the closet, and I stood in the middle of the bedroom, staring at the rumpled sheets, the ordinary wreckage of an ordinary afternoon that had just ended everything I understood about my life.

Then, from the hallway, Mia's voice again … quieter, meant for Ash, though I heard every word.

"You didn't tell me she'd be home early."

I went very still.

That wasn't the voice of a woman who'd stumbled into an affair by accident. That was the voice of someone who'd known my schedule. Who'd known when I was supposed to be safely out of the way.

Which meant this afternoon … the meeting that had "wrapped early," the strange gift of free time … hadn't been an accident at all.