I looked down at my hand.
The second I realized what I was holding, my heart started racing.
I pulled it out slowly.
I glanced over at Ian, still sleeping peacefully.
I grabbed my phone off the dresser, tightened the robe, and crossed the carpet barefoot. The door clicked shut behind me, softer than a whisper.
The hallway carpet felt cool under my bare feet. I leaned against the wall beside our suite door and opened my palm.
A folded receipt. A tiny brass key on a red ribbon. And tucked inside the fold, a small square of cream stationery covered in loopy cursive that wasn’t mine.
The door clicked shut behind me.
“Thank you for keeping this between us. She can never know until the right moment. R.”
I read it several times. My mouth went dry.
Ian and I didn’t do this. We didn’t take notes from strangers, keys we hadn’t discussed, or the word “she” referring to me while I slept right next to him.
I unfolded the receipt with fingers that didn’t feel like mine.
I read it several times.
Bellamy & Sons Jewelers. An address across town. A date three weeks before the wedding. The dollar amount made my knees weak.
I fumbled my phone out of the robe’s pocket and called Marisol.
She picked up on the second ring, groggy.
“Sharon? It’s like eight in the morning. Please tell me you’re calling to brag about marital sex?”
“I found something in Ian’s tux.”
I fumbled my phone out of the robe’s pocket.
My friend’s grogginess vanished.
