Chapter 2 - One Kiss
Natalie did not remember riding the elevator downstairs.
She remembered the mirrored walls.
She remembered seeing herself in them and thinking the woman staring back looked older than forty-two.
She remembered Ethan entering just before the doors closed.
“Please.”
She pressed the lobby button.
He reached for her.
Natalie moved away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Three strangers entered on the eleventh floor.
Ethan fell silent.
That humiliation felt almost absurd.
Their marriage was disintegrating, yet both of them still understood the social rule that strangers in elevators should not have to witness it.
When the doors opened, Natalie walked straight past the ballroom.
“Natalie.”
She kept going.
Outside, Chicago rain glittered beneath the hotel awning.
Ethan caught up beside the valet stand.
“Let me drive.”
“No.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“I had half a glass of champagne.”
“You’re shaking.”
“Because I found my husband kissing another woman.”
A valet looked away.
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Can we not do this here?”
Natalie laughed bitterly.
“Where would you prefer? Room 1418?”
His jaw tightened.
“That was cruel.”
She stared at him.
For one second, neither moved.
Then Natalie said, “You don’t get to tell me what cruelty looks like tonight.”
Their house in Evanston was twenty minutes away.
Natalie took a rideshare.
Ethan arrived forty minutes later.
She was sitting at the kitchen island when he entered.
Their daughter Sophie was sleeping at a friend’s house after homecoming preparations. Twelve-year-old Caleb was upstairs gaming with headphones on.
The ordinary domestic silence made everything worse.
Ethan removed his wet shoes.
“Natalie.”
“How long?”
“I told you.”
“You told me there was one kiss.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Then why did she know which side you sleep on?”
“She dated me for four years.”
“That was twenty-two years ago.”
“I have always slept on the left.”
Natalie stared at him.
It was plausible.
She hated that.
Ethan pulled out a chair.
“Vanessa and I ran into each other six months ago.”
“Where?”
“At a development conference.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“I knew you’d make it bigger than it was.”
She blinked.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You lying because of something I supposedly would have done.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
Ethan rubbed his face.
“I handled this badly.”
“You put your tongue in your ex-girlfriend’s mouth.”
His eyes hardened.
“Do we need to be graphic?”
“Yes. Because you’re already turning it into a paperwork error.”
He looked away.
Natalie felt rage sharpening her thoughts.
“What did she mean about Cedar House?”
“Nothing.”
“Vanessa specifically told me to ask you.”
“She’s angry.”
“At whom?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
Ethan did not answer quickly enough.
Natalie stood.
“Were you planning to leave me?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her you were?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her we were unhappy?”
Silence.
Natalie closed her eyes.
Of course.
Every affair required a story in which the betrayed spouse became scenery.
“What did you say about me?”
“I told her things had been difficult.”
“Our marriage has been difficult because you haven’t been present for a year.”
“I’ve been building the firm.”
“You’ve been somewhere.”
Caleb’s bedroom door opened upstairs.
Both adults stopped.
Footsteps reached the landing.
“Mom?”
Natalie forced her face into composure.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can you keep it down?”
“Sorry.”
Caleb disappeared again.
Natalie turned back to Ethan.
“You’re sleeping in the guest room.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
She walked toward the stairs.
“Natalie.”
She stopped.
“I love you.”
Her back remained toward him.
She waited for the words to hurt.
Instead, they made her tired.
“You should have remembered that upstairs.”
She went to their bedroom.
His side of the bed was exactly as he had left it that morning.
Left side.
Phone charger.
Book facedown.
Reading glasses.
A glass with two inches of water.
Natalie stood there for a long time.
Then she began looking.
She hated herself for it.
Drawers.
Jacket pockets.
Travel bag.
Nothing.
She almost stopped.
Then she remembered the navy jacket still at the hotel.
His other coat hung inside the closet.
Natalie searched it.
The inside pocket contained receipts.
Parking.
Coffee.
A restaurant in Milwaukee.
Another from Lake Geneva.
Natalie unfolded that one.
Friday, August 14.
Two dinners.
Two bottles of wine.
Hotel room service.
The Grand Geneva Resort.
Ethan had told her he spent that weekend in Milwaukee meeting a hospital client.
Her breathing changed.
At the bottom of the pocket she found a white plastic keycard sleeve.
Not from tonight.
Printed across the front was the logo of a small boutique hotel near Lake Geneva.
The date had been written by hand.
May 9.
Their wedding anniversary was May 11.
Natalie turned the sleeve over.
Two words were written on the back in a woman’s handwriting.
Next time.
Below it was a small heart.
The bedroom door opened.
Ethan stood there.
His eyes dropped to the card in her hand.
Neither spoke.
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Then Natalie asked, very quietly:
“Was this the one kiss?”
