Before he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. “I’m only leaving right now because you’re closing and I have somewhere to be. I was just stopping by to make sure it was true that you worked here. Trust me, I’ll be back. And you and I are going to talk.”

It took every ounce of strength in my body not to run over and stab him with the sharp edge of my dust wand, but I just stood there. Paralyzed. Livid.

As soon as he was gone, I gained mobility again and threw my dust-wand to the floor. I headed behind the counter, pressing the button that made the glass panel drop down and block anyone from coming any further; I didn’t want to take any chances on him returning minutes later.

I locked myself in the bathroom and ran cold water in the sink, splashing my face over and over again. As hard as I tried to fight it, my most vivid and bitter memory of our failed marriage began to play in my mind...

I took another sip of disgusting wine and looked at the incriminating photos Barry had handed me.

“I asked Amanda where she was on last Friday.” Barry lit a cigar and shook his head. “She told me she was with you—out shopping for a new dress.” He picked up one of the photos and ran his fingers along the timestamp. “Maybe she meant she was wearing a dress while she was fucking Ryan in his office...”

I let out a short nervous laugh, but I couldn’t stop crying. As hard as I tried to repress my sobs, the tears were falling faster and faster and my chest was heaving uncontrollably.

A waiter stopped by and cleared his throat. “Um, sir? This is a nonsmoking café.”

“My wife is fucking her husband.” Barry snapped. “I can smoke wherever the fuck I want today.”

The waiter’s face turned bright red and he dashed across the room.

I wiped away another stream of tears and stared at the photo that had fallen in my lap, the one of Ryan tucking a strand of hair behind Amanda’s ear, the one of her leaning in close for a kiss from his lips.

“Can I keep a set of these?” My voice cracked.

“Of course you can. I made four copies. One for you, one for me, and two sets for my lawyers.”

I nodded and slid the stack of photos back into the envelope. I was too numb to say anything else. I needed to be alone.

Standing up, I walked over and hugged Barry—knowing that I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.

He hugged me back and used his wrinkled sleeve to wipe my face. “You’re going to be okay, Claire. Don’t let what they’ve done to us ruin you. You’re an amazing person and you’ll bounce back from this...”

He said a few more things, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. I was too busy focusing on the drive home, too busy wondering what the hell I was going to say when I saw Ryan face to face.

I dragged myself out of the hotel lounge and into the rain—not bothering to put up my umbrella. The valet brought my car around and offered to give me a towel for my seat, but I slipped inside and sped off.

“I love you, Claire...You’re the love of my life...I’m going to make sure our anniversary is the best one we’ve ever had...”

I sniffled as I remembered him saying those words to me—last night.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved—and you always will be...”

I pulled off on the exit that led to our suburb, shaking my head at all the beautiful memories that were playing in my head—knowing that no matter what I said to him tonight, our so-called “fairytale” was long over.

I drove around our neighborhood until my gas needle hit “E,” trying to come up with something to say, but I was too numb, too hurt. After deciding that I would let the pictures say it all, I drove my car into the garage and sat at the wheel with my head in my hands.

The two of us were just shopping for new kitchen countertops last week—he wanted wood and I wanted granite. We were just planning our fifteen year anniversary, and even though he’d been vague about the plans, I was sure he was taking me to the Panama Canal—the place I’d always wanted to go.

A round of thunder roared in the distance and the rain began to pelt even harder, so I closed the garage door and slipped out of the car.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly twisted the doorknob and stepped inside the house.

“Hey, Mom!” “Why are you so late today?” Caroline and Ashley didn’t look up from their homework.

“Hey babe.” Ryan pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrow, lowering his voice and asking why my face was “so red...like [I’d] been crying.”

I didn’t answer his question. I just stared into his eyes, wondering how he could act as if everything was normal—as if he hadn’t just fucked Amanda in our bedroom yesterday.

“You’re drenched...” He ran his hands against my soaked blazer. “Did you lose your umbrella?”

I swallowed, shaking my head.

He smiled. “Well, go dry up. Whatever’s bothering you—whatever it is, we can talk about it after dinner. Okay? I ordered pizza from the girls’ favorite place and it’s ready now.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

I heard him whisper “I love you” into my ear before he walked away and disappeared into the garage.

As soon as I heard him revving up his car and heading down the driveway, I turned to face my daughters.

“Mom?” Ashley tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong with you?”

Caroline lifted her head up and frowned. “Mom? Why are you staring at us like that?” She looked at Ashley and shook her head. “Why isn’t she talking?”

“I need you two to go to your room.” My voice cracked. “I need to...I need to talk your dad when he gets back. Alone.”

They exchanged confused glances, but they put their folders away and hugged me before heading upstairs.

As soon as I heard their door close, I took the envelope from the inside of my blazer and sat down at the table, thinking about how I was going to present the photos to Ryan.

All of a sudden, my phone vibrated. A text. Amanda. “Hey Claire! Just texting you to remind you about that jazzercise class we signed up for tomorrow morning! I’ll pick you up at nine!”

Is this bitch serious?!

I tossed my phone across the room, knocking a photo frame off the wall. Hurt, I stood up and took the photos out of the envelope. I walked around downstairs and tossed them all over the floor, leaving a trail from the dining room to the living room and into the kitchen.

The last photo in my hands was one of Amanda straddling his lap in his car last week—in the parking lot of his law firm.

I wanted to rip it apart and force the pieces down his throat, but I heard the knob of the garage door twisting, heard him saying, “Where’d everybody go? I’m back!”

I leaned against the table and tried to calm my shaking hands.

“Ashley? Caroline? Claire?” His steps were getting closer and closer. “Did a tornado hit the inside of our house while I was gone?” He finally stepped into the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Claire?” He set the pizzas down on the counter. “What are all these pictures and why are they all over the place?”

I didn’t answer. I just stared at him as he bent down to pick one of them up, as his face immediately went white.

He looked up at me in utter horror, devastation. “Claire, I’m so sorry...Can we...Can we talk about this?”

I cringed at the memory and splashed more water onto my face.

The mere thought of Ryan still lit a bitter flame within me, but seeing him? In person? That was a damn wildfire, and I wasn’t sure how long it would take to put out.

I couldn’t believe his audacity—to actually show up and attempt to have a regular conversation with me, to act as if I would give him the time of day.

What the fuck does he want?

There was a knock at the door, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. My body was shaking and my thoughts were consumed with rage and anger.