I actually taken Tessa to dinner.
The restaurant bill was in the envelope.
Ivory roses had become a habit.
Whenever I lied badly enough to feel uncomfortable, I sent them.
Anniversary flowers.
Apology flowers.
Thinking-of-you flowers.
I convinced myself they were romantic.
Corinne had apparently catalogued them like evidence.
“Did she know?”
Mrs. Pearl did not pretend not to understand.
“About the other woman?”
“I don’t know when she knew.”
“But she knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she confront me?”
Mrs. Pearl’s face hardened.
“Would you have told her the truth?”
Nothing came out.
“That’s probably why.”
My phone rang.
Tessa.
Briefly, seeing her name gave me a strange sense of relief.
She belonged to the world I had understood then.
Hotels.
Secrecy.
Desire without responsibility.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“You made it home?”
“Yes.”
“How did the reunion go?”
“Corinne’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
