Andrew had never been especially talented at lying. As he folded shirts into an open suitcase in the bedroom, he avoided looking at Claire, the woman he had shared his life with for almost ten years.
“A conference. The entire week,” Claire said from the doorway, leaning against the frame. “And naturally, it has to be in Miami, where everyone else goes to relax.”
“Well,” Andrew muttered, hiding his swim trunks beneath a stack of shirts, “the company is paying for everything. Refusing would be ridiculous.”
“Is Sophie going with you?” Claire asked.
There was no real question in her voice. It sounded more like a tired statement.
Andrew hesitated for half a second, then continued packing as though he had not heard the accusation.
“Yes. She’s handling the presentation. It’s work, Claire.”
“Of course,” Claire replied, folding her arms. “Just like last year’s company party, when you and your colleagues were ‘working’ until four in the morning.”
“Are we really going to start this again?” Andrew snapped, closing the suitcase. “I explained everything then. It was an important project.”
“The project that required you to erase every message from your phone?”
Andrew set the suitcase on the bed and finally faced his wife.
“I’m not discussing this now. My flight leaves in three hours.”
“Say hello to your ‘colleague,’” Claire said, stepping aside so he could pass. “Try to enjoy yourself.”
Andrew muttered something under his breath and hurried out.
Claire remained alone in the bedroom for a long time, staring at the framed wedding photograph on the nightstand. At last, she picked up her phone with sudden determination and searched for the number of someone who might be able to help her.
By mid-June, Miami was hot and bright, the ocean warm enough to swim in and the waves gentle beneath the cloudless sky. Andrew lay beneath a beach umbrella, watching Sophie move through the water. Her tanned body glittered in the sunlight, drawing the attention of other vacationers.
“Come in!” she called, waving toward him. “The water is incredible!”
“What are you thinking about?” Sophie asked when she reached him and slipped her arms around his neck. “And don’t say it’s work.”
“No, it’s just…” Andrew looked away. “I forgot to send a message before I left.”
“Liar.” Sophie smiled and brushed a light kiss against his cheek. “You’re thinking about your wife, aren’t you?”
Andrew frowned.
“We agreed not to talk about her while we’re here.”
“All right, all right,” Sophie said soothingly. “Then race me to the buoy.”
That evening, they ate at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. Sophie wore a new dress she had bought the previous afternoon at a boutique near the boardwalk. Andrew watched the setting sun turn her skin golden, and for a moment she looked impossibly beautiful.
Yet something inside him remained unsettled.
“Should we go up into the hills tomorrow?” Sophie asked, taking a sip of wine. “I want some beautiful pictures for my social media.”
“Sure,” Andrew said with a nod. “We can pick up souvenirs while we’re there.”
“Does Claire like souvenirs?” Sophie asked with childish curiosity.
Andrew gave her a restrained smile.
“I asked you not to bring her up.”
“I’m sorry.” Sophie laid her hand over his. “But sooner or later, you’ll have to deal with this. We can’t keep hiding forever.”
“I know,” Andrew answered darkly. “After the trip, I’ll talk to her.”
“Really?” Hope flickered in Sophie’s eyes. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
The week disappeared quickly. They swam, lay in the sun, went sightseeing, ate seafood at expensive restaurants, and spent passionate nights in their hotel room. Little by little, Andrew stopped thinking about home and the confrontation waiting there.
Almost.
At the airport on the day of their departure, Sophie wrapped her arms around him.
“Don’t forget what you promised,” she whispered, touching her lips to his. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“I know,” Andrew murmured, forcing himself to let her go. “I’ll call as soon as I speak to Claire.”
They had booked separate flights as a precaution.
During the journey home, Andrew ordered a whiskey and tried to imagine what he would say to his wife. After ten years of marriage, their relationship had begun to feel less like a partnership and more like two strangers sharing an address.
Late that night, a taxi stopped outside his building. After paying the driver, Andrew remained motionless for a moment, staring through the window at the apartment. A light was burning in the living room.
Claire was awake.
He drew a deep breath and climbed the steps.
The door opened without a sound. Andrew left his suitcase in the hallway and listened. Soft music and quiet voices drifted from the living room.
Television, he thought as he removed his shoes and walked toward the sound.
Then he saw the room—and stopped dead.
In the center stood a beautifully decorated table set with champagne and a cake. A candle shaped like the number ten burned on top of it.