Page 15 of Letting Go

“For our tenth anniversary, I planned this trip. Somewhere she’d always wanted to go. I picked up asecond job to cover it. Nights, weekends. Didn't tell her, wanted it to be a surprise.”

I nod. “Romantic.”

He snorts. “Big mistake. Turns out ‘working late’ too often makes people curious. She called my boss to check on me. He played along, told her where I was, this very bar, actually.”

My brows lift. “Wait, your boss helped her track you?”

He nods, bitterness curling at the edges of his smile. “Yeah. Apparently, that was proof enough. He took her back to our apartment. They got drunk. And I got to come home to find my boss screwing my wife on our damn sofa.”

“I have no words.” Just the dull weight of second-hand heartbreak sitting in my throat.

He pours himself a shot. Doesn’t take it yet. “I didn’t either. Words, I mean. So, I decked him. Got fired the next day.”

“And your wife?” I finally ask.

He shrugs. “She cried. Said I shouldn’t have lied. Said what did I expect.” He takes the shot then, hard and clean. “What I expected was for my wife not to screw another man just because I was trying to surprise her.”

I exhale. “Jesus.”

He meets my eyes. “Take it from me, don’t waste time wondering. Don’t stall, don’t spiral. If you think something’s wrong, find out. No guesswork. Get the truth, all of it.”

I ask him, “How? Even if I confront him, he’ll just lie. Or worse, I’ll think he’s lying, no matter what he says.”

The bartender doesn’t flinch. He leans in slightly, voice low like he’s about to share a trade secret.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says.

And then he tells me.

A way to know.

For certain.

Chapter 7

MICHAEL

“Well, what brought this on?” I ask, watching Leni toss clothes into a bag like the house is on fire. “I thought we were supposed to talk. Instead, you come home drunk at two in the morning?”

She barely looks at me. “I’ve just been under so much pressure, I was starting to feel like I was losing it. I thought…” She cuts herself off, zipping the bag. “I think I just need a few days of peace. To meditate. You gave me that yoga retreat gift months ago, feels like the perfect time to actually use it.”

I try to catch her eye. “And our talk?”

“We’ll talk when I get back. Monday,” she says, distracted. Then she stops, really looks at me. “I need this.”

I step closer, soften. “Alright. I’ll be here.”

A car honks outside. She glances out the window. “That’s my cab. I’ll text you when I get to the car, okay?”

At least she didn’t drive drunk last night.

I help her carry the bag down the stairs, and when we get to the front door, she turns and kisses me. Not a quick peck, not the distant, obligatory goodbye we’ve been trading lately. It’s… full. Intentional.

She hasn’t kissed me like this in a long time. Not since-

No.

There’s no way she knows.

---