A chill ran through me.
I folded the note and slipped it into my purse.
At 11 p.m., Robert was already in bed watching television.
“I’m going downstairs for some tea.”
“Now?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“I’ll come.”
“No. Stay.”
He studied me, then nodded.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator.
The waiter was waiting outside the back entrance. His name tag read Evan.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” he said.
“Just tell me.”
“I’ve seen your husband here several times.”
My chest tightened.
“With another woman?”
He hesitated. “A young woman.”
After 40 years, there it was.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long has this been happening?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe two years.”
Two years.
We had spent the previous year planning this anniversary while Robert apparently already knew every hallway in the hotel.
“How young is she?”
“Early 20s, maybe.”
I grabbed the railing.
Robert was 65.
I felt sick.
“Did they stay together?”
Evan’s expression changed.
“You think they were having an affair?”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Mr. Harris booked the room under his name, but he never stayed overnight.”
“How do you know?”
“I work late. I’ve seen him leave.”
