"Claire's here."
I sat up.
"What?"
"She wants thirty minutes."
"Did you tell her—"
"I told her it was your decision."
I considered sending her away.
Then realized I was tired of stories arriving by text.
"Fine."
Ben grabbed his keys.
"I'm getting coffee."
"You don't have to leave."
"Oh, I absolutely do."
He pointed at me.
"No murder."
"Helpful."
Claire sat in the living room.
She looked different than when she returned from Pine Lake.
No tan glow.
No calm.
Hair pulled back.
Dark circles.
She held no bag.
No folder.
No dramatic object.
Just herself.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Letting me in."
I sat across from her.
"You said thirty minutes."
She nodded.
"I want to tell you everything."
"You already did."
"No."
"I told you pieces because I was terrified that if you knew exactly what happened, you'd leave."
I almost laughed.
"That strategy worked well."
"I know."
She took a breath.
Then she told me.
The trip began exactly as she had claimed.
They arrived Friday afternoon.
Separate rooms in the same lodge.
They walked to the lake.
Had dinner.
Talked about their twenties.
Julian apologized for things.
Claire apologized too.
Saturday they hiked.
Saturday night they drank wine near an outdoor fire pit.
Julian told her he had compared every serious relationship afterward to theirs.
Claire admitted she sometimes wondered whether they had broken up because they were immature rather than incompatible.
Nothing physical happened.
Sunday they drove around old places.
A diner.
A trailhead.
The cabin complex they used to rent.
Claire cried.
Julian held her.
Monday, day four, they returned from hiking after rain.
They ate in his room because the restaurant was closed.
One drink became several.
They kissed.
Claire said she stopped.
Then kissed him again.
They slept together.
The next morning she panicked.
She considered coming home.
Julian said leaving immediately would turn the entire trip into shame instead of understanding.
I interrupted.
"Convenient."
Claire nodded.
"Yes."
"I see that now."
They stayed.
That afternoon they talked for hours.
Then slept together again that night.
After that, the line was gone.
Separate rooms became nominal.
They had breakfast together.
Hiked.
Bought groceries.
Cooked.
Sat in the hot tub.
Had sex.
Watched movies.
For approximately a week, Claire said, they behaved like a couple on vacation.
"What did you tell him about me?"
She looked ashamed.
"I told him we were distant."
"That I didn't really see you."
"That I was unsure about having children because I didn't know if our marriage was alive enough."
I felt physically sick.
"We were scheduling fertility appointments."
"I know."