“And then?”
“She found out four months ago.”
My heart gave a dull thud.
Four months.
Four months of knowing.
“Did she care?”
Grace did not answer quickly. That, at least, I respected.
“She cried for two days,” she said at last. “Then Lucas told her you knew the marriage was over. That the two of you were quietly dividing things. That he didn’t want to upset you publicly before his work transition.”
I looked around my study, at the framed photograph on the bookshelf from our trip to Santa Fe. Lucas’s arm around my shoulders. My head turned toward him, laughing at something he had said.
Quietly dividing things.
“He told her I was emotionally fragile, didn’t he?”
Grace’s silence was enough.
I smiled without humor.
“He always did like making women feel like someone needed protecting.”
“I’m not defending her,” Grace said. “I’m just telling you what she believed.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know what she believes. She won’t speak to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her Lucas was lying.”
I closed the laptop without completing the transfer.
The sound seemed louder than it should have been.
Grace noticed.
