The Morning After Our Wedding, I Was Emptying My Husband’s Tuxedo Pockets – But What I Pulled Out Made My Heart Start Racing

“It means either it’s something big and awful, or it’s something big and not awful. Both are possible.”

I stared at the key. It was too small for a door. Too specifically shaped for a lock I couldn’t picture. A jewelry box, maybe.

“You dated him for four years. You know him.”

“People hide things for years all the time.”

“Not Ian. Sharon, come on. Not Ian.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to walk back into that suite, slide under the covers, and pretend the tuxedo was still empty.

But I couldn’t.

“I can’t wait until Greece to ask,” I said. “I can’t sit on a plane for 10 hours with this in my carry-on.”

“Then don’t. But ask. Don’t declare.”

“Ask. Don’t declare. Got it.”

“And Sharon?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever it is, you call me right after. I don’t care if you’re crying or laughing. I need to know.”

I nodded at the empty stairwell, which was pointless because she couldn’t see me.

“I promise,” I managed.

I hung up and sat there for a long moment, the key warm in one hand, the note cold in the other, my wedding ring catching the ugly fluorescent light.