Chapter 2 - The Marriage Carolina Thought I Knew About
Ethan wanted Carolina gone.
I wanted her to stay.
That surprised all three of us.
“Clara.”
He sounded almost reasonable now.
“I’m sick. This isn’t the time.”
“You were healthy enough to invite your secretary here with luggage.”
“I can explain the bag.”
Carolina laughed.
“I’d love to hear this.”
He looked at her.
“Stop helping.”
That sentence changed her posture.
Helping.
As if she worked for him even here.
I opened the door wider.
“Come inside.”
Ethan stared at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding out which one of us you’ve been lying to.”
Carolina entered.
The answer, obviously, was both.
But not in the same way.
She believed Ethan and I had separated the previous February.
Quietly.
Privately.
No lawyers yet.
No public announcement because Ethan’s mother was recovering from cancer and I supposedly did not want family drama.
That part was clever.
His mother really had been ill.
I really had insisted we keep stress away from her.
Ethan used a true family situation as scaffolding for a fake marriage.
Carolina said their relationship became physical in April.
I counted backward.
Nine months.
The florist charge was not the beginning.
It was barely evidence of the middle.
“What did he tell you about me?”
Carolina hesitated.
“Everything.”
“That means nothing.”
She looked uncomfortable.
“He said you knew he was seeing someone.”
“No.”
“He said you didn’t want names.”
I almost laughed.
That sounded like something I would say.
Which was probably why Ethan chose it.
“He said you had an agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“That neither of you would embarrass the other until the divorce was ready.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Did I?”
He held his stomach.
“I need a doctor.”
“Then call one.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
That answer came easily.
I wasn’t.
Carolina scrolled farther back.
There were no long conversations between her and “me.”
That was the first thing I noticed.
Only four messages over three months.
Short.
Emotionally flat.
Exactly the kind of messages a person might send if she wanted to acknowledge another woman without engaging her.
The first:
I know who you are. I’m not interested in drama.
The second:
Ethan and I are handling this privately.
The third:
Please respect the house until I’m out.
And the one from last night.
I checked the phone numbers.
Mine.
I checked my own message history.
Nothing.
Deleted, apparently.
But something bothered Carolina too.
“You said you never contacted me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why did you know my name this morning?”
“The flowers.”
She frowned.
“What flowers?”
“Two hundred and eighty dollars.”
Ethan muttered:
“Jesus Christ.”
Carolina looked at him.
“You said those were reimbursed.”
Now it was my turn.
“Reimbursed by who?”
Neither answered.
I looked at Carolina.
“Were they from him?”
“Yes.”
“For?”
She swallowed.
“My birthday.”
That was in July.
The charge was three nights ago.
“No.”
I turned the phone toward her.
“Tuesday.”
Carolina stared.
“I didn’t get flowers Tuesday.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
There.
A new question.
The charge I thought exposed Carolina did not belong to her.
I almost hated the relief.
It was smaller than the humiliation, but it existed.
Carolina said:
“Who were they for?”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“Client.”
“Which client?”
“Why does this matter?”
Because he had already taught me that whenever Ethan called a detail irrelevant, it was usually holding up the whole building.
Carolina picked up her bag.
“I’m leaving.”
“Wait.”
She looked at me.
Not him.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed she meant part of it.
I also knew apology was easier when she had just discovered she had been lied to.
“Did you really think I knew?”
She paused.
Not long.
Long enough.
“Mostly.”
That word mattered.
“Mostly?”
Her eyes filled with embarrassment.
“There were things that didn’t fit.”
Ethan said:
“Carolina.”
She ignored him.
“At Christmas you touched his back when you walked past him.”
I remembered.
Company party.
Crowded ballroom.
Nothing romantic.
Habit.
Fourteen years of marriage live in the hand.
“I asked him about it.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were performing.”
I stared.
“For who?”
“Everyone.”
That almost made sense.
Ethan and I were good in public.
Not fake.
Good.
That was part of why I had waited so long to confront what I suspected.
Our marriage was not miserable every day.
Bad marriages rarely provide that convenience.
Carolina continued.
“Then I saw your anniversary post.”
Ethan moved toward her.
“Enough.”
She turned.
“You told me she scheduled it because your families would ask questions.”
I looked at Ethan.
The anniversary dinner had been his idea.
He booked the restaurant.
Ordered champagne.
Held my hand across the table.
Then apparently drove to Carolina afterward and described the entire night as damage control.
I said:
“You knew.”
Carolina’s face hardened.
“I suspected.”
“That’s different from believing.”
“Yes.”
“Why stay?”
She looked at Ethan.
Then said something I wasn’t expecting.
“Because every time I questioned him, he had an answer that made wanting him feel less ugly.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
Not villainy.
Choice.
Ethan lowered himself into a chair.
His breathing had steadied.
The stomach cramps were easing.
I noticed.
So did Carolina.
She asked:
“Are you actually sick?”
He glared at her.
“Go home.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Ethan looked at the screen.
His expression sharpened.
“Don’t answer that.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“It’s probably spam.”
The phone rang again.
Same number.
Carolina suddenly recognized it.
“That’s Halpern.”
“Who?”
She looked at Ethan.
“Your company’s outside employment lawyer.”
I answered.
A woman introduced herself.
Then asked whether Ethan Bennett was available.
I stared at him.
“He’s here.”
She paused.
“Mrs. Bennett, I’m sorry. I may have the wrong understanding. Mr. Bennett told us you were no longer residing together.”
Carolina closed her eyes.
Ethan said nothing.
May you like
And suddenly I understood that the lie about our marriage had not only been told to his mistress.
He had taken it to work.
