Page 6 of Seven Year Itch

The only answer that made sense was he was hiding something. Her already knotted stomach dipped, and her breathing became shallow as she fought tears and nausea.

She typed in other password possibilities she thought Garrett might use, but came up with a fat goose egg. None of his usual codes seemed to work.

Think.

So focused on the phone while trying a few more possibilities, the sharp rap on the bathroom door startled her. Her whole body jerked, and the phone flew from her hand. She watched—as if in slow motion—as it sailed in an arc, landing with a small splash right into the toilet.

A toilet she'd never flushed.

Her eyes went wide, and a horrified gasp escaped her throat as the implications of what had just happened sunk in, and she lunged for the toilet, gingerly fishing the phone out with two fingers.

"Babe? You've been in there a while. Everything okay?" Garrett's voice came through the door sounding gruff and sleepy.

Oh, God. She looked down at the dripping phone then over at the door. "Um... Yeah, I'm just not feeling well. I think something I ate didn't settle."

"Can I get you anything?"

She heard him try the doorknob, relieved she remembered to lock it. "Um... Do you mind getting me some Imodium? It's in the kitchen."

"Sure. I'll be right back."

"Take your time," she whispered under her breath.

She rinsed the phone under the faucet—knowing more water wasn't the best idea but... gross—then quickly disassembled it, wiping everything down with a towel. After putting it back together, she tried powering it back on.

Nothing happened. Black screen.

Shit.

She wasn't sure what to do, but she did know she needed to sneak the phone back before Garrett returned with the medicine. She knew it would take him some time to find—he had the same "searching" skills as his son—but she also knew he wouldn't return without it.

Cautiously opening the door, she poked her head out. Seeing the room empty, she raced to the nightstand and put the phone back exactly as she'd found it.

She was just crawling back into bed when Garrett returned. "I couldn't find the Imodium, but I brought you some Pepto-Bismol."

She took the offered bottle. "Thanks but I'm feeling better. Whatever it was must have passed."

Garrett climbed in beside her, touching a hand to her forehead before leaning in to give it a kiss. "You don't feel warm."

Ali brushed his lips with hers. "I'm fine. Let's try to get back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

He gathered her back in his arms, but she lay awake, her mind racing. She was so conflicted. When he was with her, it didn't seem as if he were having an affair. Their sex life was still great, and he was as attentive as always. But why the changed password, late nights, and secretive phone calls?

She decided she definitely needed more to go on before she confronted him. She didn't want to accuse him of something that may be false and have him think she didn't trust him. Which was really hypocritical of her if she thought about it too closely. She sighed into her pillow. She was turning into a horrible, untrusting wife, and she hated herself for that.

But only if it weren't true.

≈≈≈≈

After rushing through her morning routine—the story of her life—Ali was about to step out the bedroom door when she heard Garrett say, "Babe, before you run off," he held out his cell, "this damn thing is broken. Do you think you can stop by the phone store and pick up a new one?"

She inwardly cringed, waiting for him to elaborate, telling her he'd found it sitting on the nightstand in a puddle of water. But when all he did was stare at her expectantly, she took it from his hand. "Sure. No problem."

Grasping her nape, he leaned down and gave her a kiss. "Thanks, babe." He took a step back. "I'll be working late tonight, so go ahead and eat dinner without me."

And once again the red flags started to wave. "Why?" Her voice was soft and low but still held an edge.

If her husband noticed, he ignored it. "Sam Johnson, the guy I had lunch with the other day," he paused and waited for her to acknowledge she remembered who he was talking about. "We need to tie up loose ends, and he was only available tonight."

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