“You brought your stepmother into our bed.
She photographed it and sent the evidence to your wife.
You turned it into an investigation all by yourselves.”
His younger sister covered her mouth.
Chloe took another step toward the door.
Arthur noticed.
“Stay.”
She froze.
There was no affection in his voice now.
For years, I had watched Arthur indulge Chloe’s every sharp remark.
When she mocked me, he laughed.
When she interrupted me, he let her.
When I once told Trevor privately that Chloe seemed determined to humiliate me, Trevor later repeated the complaint to his father, and Arthur called me sensitive.
Now every defense he had ever offered her seemed to be replaying behind his eyes.
Chloe shifted tactics.
“Arthur, your son was unhappy.”
Trevor stared at her.
I did too.
There it was.
Not denial.
Justification.
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“My son was unhappy.”
“His marriage had problems.”
I felt Trevor look toward me, perhaps hoping I would react emotionally enough to give him somewhere else to put the blame.
I didn’t.
Chloe continued.
“Brooke was distant.
Trevor felt ignored.
Things became complicated.”
Trevor whispered, “Chloe, stop.”
But she was fighting for herself now.
“I’m not going to stand here and let her portray herself as some perfect wife.”
I thought about Wednesday morning.
Trevor entering the kitchen in the watch I had bought him.
Trevor asking whether I had slept badly.
Trevor kissing my cheek while the photograph of him and Chloe sat facedown beside my coffee.
I looked at Arthur.
“Your wife sent me that photograph at 6:13 Wednesday morning.
Trevor walked into our kitchen twenty minutes later and behaved as though nothing had happened.
Whatever problems existed in my marriage, that choice belonged to them.”
Arthur nodded once.
It was not agreement so much as acknowledgment.
Trevor pointed toward the giant display.
“And this choice belongs to you.
You invited everyone here to humiliate me.”
“No,” I said.
“I invited everyone here for dinner before I knew what you had done.”
That silenced him.
It was true.
Saturday dinner had been planned weeks earlier.
Twelve place settings had always been expected.
I had simply changed the centerpiece.
Trevor’s older sister finally spoke.
“How long?”
Trevor looked at her.
