For reasons she could not immediately name, Lauren’s throat tightened. Reid had said the same thing the night he opened a restaurant with borrowed money and made her wait in an alley while he checked whether his investors were seated. Back then she had found the secrecy romantic. Tonight it sounded like instructions.
Owen’s phone vibrated before she could answer.
He glanced at the unfamiliar number and read aloud, surprised: “Before your wife meets him tonight, there is something you need to know about her ex.”
A second message followed. “He told his wife he was working late.”
“His wife,” Owen repeated.
Lauren watched him lift his eyes.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Megan.”
Her fingers tightened against the table. She had never met Megan Mercer, yet she knew the name. Reid said it frequently, sometimes with affection, more often with the exhausted theatrical patience of a man determined to sound misunderstood. Megan didn’t appreciate his sacrifices. Megan no longer believed in him. Megan had stopped listening long before he’d stopped talking. Those were the lines Lauren knew. What she didn’t know was that Megan had been listening carefully indeed.
“You didn’t ask who she is,” Owen observed.
“I know he has a wife.”
“You told me he was separated.”
“He said they were separating.”
“That is different.”
Lauren looked at the documents again. Every line she read seemed to have been written by someone who understood that leaving a room was easier than staying after the truth had arrived.
Owen’s phone lit once more. Megan had sent an address, a photograph of a restaurant’s dark side entrance, and one final sentence: Please don’t tell Reid I’m contacting you. I’m nearby, and I would rather explain in person than have him decide what you hear.
Outside, a car moved slowly through rain. Inside, the hallway clock clicked toward seven. Lauren’s date was scheduled for seven-thirty. She realized that whatever happened next, she wasn’t going to arrive at that appointment as the person who had spent the afternoon choosing earrings.
“Call her,” Lauren said.
Owen looked at his wife’s face, then pressed the number.
Chapter Two: The Woman at the Door
Megan’s voice was steady enough to sound rehearsed. She did not introduce herself as an injured wife, and she did not ask Owen to condemn Lauren. She asked whether the two of them were together and whether anyone else could hear the call.
“We’re in our house,” Owen said. “My wife is here.”
“Good. Keep the doors locked for the next ten minutes. I am not saying someone is coming to hurt you. I’m saying Reid has arranged for people to meet him tonight, and he has a habit of treating other people’s addresses as information he can share.”
