Chapter Twelve
Neil noticed the cuffs first—not the fact that I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring.
“What are those?” he asked, distractedly.
“Wrists cuffs. Pretty, aren’t they?” I said.
While we moved rapidly through the airport terminal, his eyes darted from one new thing to the next. He hardly listened to my explanation. I was prepared for his questions, at the same time planned to answer his curiosity with as little information as possible—at least until I could tell him the truth under the right circumstances. Thankfully, my brief explanation sufficed.
It wasn’t until the three of us, Jackson, Neil and I were sitting in a coffee house mid-afternoon of Neil’s third day in Amsterdam that I finally confessed the truth. By then, my feelings of guilt were so invasive that I could bare
