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I search his face, but it’s open and guileless. All the weird murderous energy from when Chris was here has vanished. I remember how quickly he changed gears at the restaurant—molten lava to cool cucumber—and wonder what else he can turn on and off in the blink of an eye. “Had you ever met Chris before?” “No.” He didn’t hesitate, but he also didn’t say, “Of course not!” or “Where the hell would I have met your ex-husband?” Just a simple no and that’s it. Which of course isn’t good enough. Exasperated, I say, “Don’t you even think it’s weird that I’m asking?” “You’re upset. The two of you have a contentious relationship. It’s not strange that you’d be shaken to find us both in your apartment when you came home.” Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “How do you know we have a contentious relation
- Writer
