“Start with how well we disguised ourselves. Like camouflage,” Mrs. Mulroney offered. “No one suspected a thing.”
Cal turned slowly. “You wereunder a table.Dressed as… I don’t even know what.”
“I was Katarina von Kunningsberg,” she said proudly. “And I will not apologize for committing to a role.”
“You launched a mustache at me.”
“I had nothing to do with that flying caterpillar,” she said, hands in the air.
“That’s true,” I muttered. “That was my nose.”
Cal bunched up his fists and looked like he was about to start writing a strongly worded letter to the editor. Instead, he exhaled and pointed at Mrs. Mulroney. “You need to go.”
She blinked. “Go where?”
“Anywhere that is not this conversation.”
“I see,” she said, rising to her feet with exaggerated elegance. “Well, in that case, I shall take my leave. Alone. Like a crusader sent into exile. Like an innocent lamb cast from the village for bleating the truth. Like a—”
“Go!”
She looked between us, gave a tragic little nod, then flounced dramatically out onto the patio and closed the door behind her.
And then it was just me.
And Cal.
He was still standing. Still pacing. Still quiet.
I fidgeted. “Okay, yes, it was a little over the top—”
“No, Matt.” He stopped walking. “It wasn’t just over the top. It was a total breach of trust.”
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand.
“You spied on me. You dressed in disguise. You enlisted Mrs. Mulroney as your accomplice. And you followed me to lunch because… why? You thought I was cheating on you?”
I winced. “No. Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”
“I—” I swallowed. “I didn’t thinkyouwere cheating. Cal, I trust you. I really do. It’s Hal I don’t trust. I know you’ve got this business deal in the works, but the two of you have been spending so much time together, and I’ve been feeling sidelined and—”
“I haven’tsidelinedyou.”
“Maybe not on purpose. But you’re gone all the time, and when you’re here, you’re still in Hal’s world. And sometimes I feel like I’m not part of it anymore. Like I’m just… orbiting.”
His expression softened. Just a little.
“I’m allowed to have work relationships,” he said, more gently now. “I’m allowed to connect with people who challenge me, or who get excited about the same things I do. That doesn’t mean I love you less.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But sometimes I forget. Or I start imagining things. And when I imagine things… I act like an idiot with a fake mustache made of cat hair.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
But then he sat down across from me, his voice low. “I need you to trust me, Matt. Because I can’t be in a marriage where I’m constantly under surveillance. Where I have to explain every lunch, every meeting, every laugh.”
I looked at him. “Do you trust me?”
