Our Affairs

chapter 6

A little while later I slipped down to the company coffee shop. I ordered a latte and was heading back when I froze. There she was—the same woman I’d seen with Richard in Hawaii. I could see her vividly from the glass door. Our eyes met; she blanched and quickly turned away, walking faster.

I started after her—instinct, not thought—when Brooke appeared, hurrying toward me.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I stared at Brooke confused about what to say for a while.

I lifted the cup. “Getting coffee. See?”

She studied me for a long beat. “You’ve been acting strange lately, Payton. Is there something I should know?”

“No. Trust me.” I said looking over Brooke if I could still see her but she was gone.

“You’re supposed to be in your office—not me covering for you.”

“Fine,” I said, linking my arm through hers. “Let’s go.”

That evening I drove home, mind still churning. A sleek black car rolled past me just as I turned into the driveway. I frowned. We rarely had visitors, especially not in the evenings unless it was a special occasion.

I parked, stepped out, and glanced back toward the gate, still puzzled.

Inside, Richard was waiting right at the door.

“Baby, you’re home early,” he said, a nervous edge beneath the smile.

“Who was that?” I nodded toward the wide glass window that overlooked the gate.

He scratched the back of his head. “Huh? Just a friend. Business talk.”

“At this hour?” I dropped my bag on the console and crossed my arms.

He closed the distance quickly, hands gentle on my upper arms. “I know we agreed—no late visitors—but this was important. Trust me, okay?”

I held his gaze for several seconds. “Is there something you want to tell me, Richard?”

He smiled—too easily—and slid his hands up to cup my face. “Actually, yes. We’re going on that trip this weekend. Just us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, my love. I’ve missed you.” His lips brushed my ear—my weak spot—and he whispered, “Your beautiful body…” before capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss.

For a moment I let myself believe it. The vulnerability, the heat—it felt like the old Richard. A dream I’d almost given up on.

But the truth clawed at the edges: him cheating. Me cheating. The lies stacking higher every day. I couldn’t keep doing this.

I pulled back gently, cradling his face. “Why don’t we wait until the trip? Make it special.”

He searched my eyes, with concern flickering. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired from work. I need to rest.”

“Alright. Dinner’s on me tonight.” He pressed one last soft kiss to my lips.

“Hmm. I’ll go, freshen up first.”

I slipped away to the bedroom, closing the door behind me, finally able to breathe.

The weight of everything pressed down harder than ever.

I sank deeper into the warm bathwater, bubbles clinging to my skin, but all I could think about was Teddy.

The way his hands moved over me these past few weeks—slow, deliberate, possessive. The way his eyes darkened with raw hunger every time they locked on mine. A small, secret smile curved my lips. What more could a woman possibly want than to feel so fiercely desired?

But then there was Richard.

Suddenly he was trying to be nice again, playing the perfect husband. And that woman—his lover—had the nerve to show up at my workplace today. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my bones.

I stood up, water streaming down my skin, dried off with a towel, and slipped into my silk robe. Grabbing my phone from the vanity, I fired off a quick text to my private investigator.

Me: Hello Tom, what have you found? Not quite long, he replied.

Tom: Hello ma’am. Her name is Elizabeth Anderson, originally from Germany. Not much yet, but I’ll have more for you before tomorrow night.

I set the phone down and took a deep breath. Time to face the performance waiting downstairs.

Richard had already set the table—fried chicken, noodles, hot dogs, and a bottle of my favorite red wine. Soft, slow music played in the background, the kind we used to dance to years ago. I smiled despite myself as he pulled out my chair like a gentleman.

“Here you go, my love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Thanks, hun.”

We ate in near silence for a while. I watched him across the table, studying the familiar lines of his face, the way he cut his chicken with precision. I remembered the first time we met—him nearly running me over in the parking lot because he was late for some important meeting. How he’d jumped out of the car, wide-eyed and apologetic, insisting on making it right. He’d taken me to a fancy restaurant to “make it up to me,” and we’d laughed until the place closed. God, I really did love my husband.

But Teddy…

“So… Do you like it?” Richard’s voice pulled me back.

“Like what?”

“The food.”

“Oh—yes, my love.” I tilted my head, genuinely curious. “What’s the occasion? It’s been years since you last cooked for me.”

He reached across the table and took my left hand, his thumb brushing over my wedding ring.

“Babe, I’m sorry. For everything. I love you. I want this—us—to work.” His eyes were soft, sincere. “Business has taken too much of me lately, but I swear I’m going to make it up to you.”

Business. Right.

I stared at him, searching for cracks in the performance. His eyes looked earnest, almost pleading. For a moment I almost believed him.

“You look extremely handsome tonight,” I said quietly.

He froze for half a second, then let out a loud, genuine laugh—the same deep, unguarded sound he used to make when we were new and stupid in love. The first real laugh I’d heard from him in three years. My heart lurched. I wanted to climb across the table, wrap my arms around him, kiss him until we both forgot the last few years.

Then his phone rang.

His expression changed instantly, the laughter dying as if it had never existed. He glanced at the screen and stood up.

“I have to take this,” he said, already standing. “Be right back.”

He walked into the living room, phone to his ear, trying to keep his voice low. Every few seconds he glanced back at me and flashed that practiced smile, as if to prove everything was fine.

I wasn’t fooled.

It was her. I knew it was her—that b***h—calling my husband.

And Richard? He was just putting on another show so I wouldn’t suspect a thing. I don't know what game he is playing or what he thinks all this is all about but I will make sure to get to the bottom of this. I have to know what is really going on.

Elizabeth. Who is she really? And what does she really want?

He returned to the dining room and sat down. As he began to eat, it was clear he wasn’t himself. After the phone call, he seemed distant—confused, slightly troubled.

“Richard, what’s wrong?” I asked. concern tightening my voice.

“Oh babe, it’s just business issues,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to go back to Seattle.”

Fear stabbed through me the moment he said Seattle. He was going to see her again. I couldn’t believe he was lying to my face—again.