“And now?”
“Now he’s blaming you for a tattoo instead of telling you the truth. I can’t keep covering for him.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Does Claire really have a butterfly tattoo?”
“Yes.”
After ending the call, I thought about evenings when Rob came home later than expected and times when he seemed unusually protective of his phone.
That evening, I found him in the kitchen.
“We need to talk.”
“If this is about the tattoo again, I’ve already told you how I feel.”
“It isn’t.”
“Who’s Claire?”
The color seemed to drain from his face.
“What do you mean?”
“Does your friend have a butterfly tattoo?”
He stared at me.
“Betty, I don’t know what Dean told you, but you’re getting the wrong idea.”
“Our granddaughter saw you kissing Claire.”
“That’s not true.”
I stared at him.
“So Natalie is lying?”
“I didn’t say that. She’s six. Kids misunderstand things.”
“Did you kiss Claire?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
“Rob, don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Was Claire the person you were supposedly seeing about the furniture?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Was there ever any furniture?”
He looked away.
“Answer me.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it isn’t. Did you kiss her?”
