“Seriously?”
That response told me she had expected the question.
“What?”
“You always ask about Nolan.”
“I asked one name.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. You’ve decided there’s something inappropriate about my friendship, so now every conversation becomes an investigation.”
I looked at her for several seconds.
Then asked the question that mattered.
“Is there something happening between you and Nolan?”
Leah stared at me.
There was a fraction of a second when she could have changed the rest of the story.
Instead:
“No.”
Hard.
Immediate.
Almost insulted.
“No, Graham. There is not.”
I nodded.
She folded her arms.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I asked.”
“And I answered.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“God, you’re exhausting.”
Then she went upstairs.
I sat alone with the photograph still on my phone.
A kiss can be impulsive.
A lie is often deliberate.
That distinction mattered.
The next morning, I called an attorney.
Her name was Vanessa Kim.
I had gotten her number from my cousin after his divorce two years earlier.
Her office was in downtown Raleigh.
Minimal furniture.
Two plants.
A framed photograph of her children.
She looked at the picture Corey had sent.
Then turned my phone facedown.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fine.”
“I need to know my options.”
“That I can help with.”
We talked about the house.
Retirement accounts.
Leah’s stock incentives.
My profit-sharing plan.
Cars.
Savings.
Debt.
No children.
That simplified custody but did not simplify grief.
Vanessa explained what not to do.
Do not drain joint accounts.
Do not hide property.
Do not read private messages through passwords I was not authorized to use.
Do not secretly install location devices.
Do not threaten Nolan.
Do not use the party or social media to create evidence through provocation.
“Party?”
“Leah’s promotion party.”
“When?”
“Three weeks.”
“Canceling it?”
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Do you want to punish her?”
“No.”
“Do you want to stay married?”
I could not answer immediately.
“I need to know whether she would stop.”
“That’s a relationship question, not a legal one.”
“I know.”
“Then ask her.”
I did.
Three nights later.
We were eating dinner.
No alcohol.
No argument.
I waited until Leah put down her phone.
“I need to ask you something.”
She sighed immediately.
“What?”
“If I told you your relationship with Nolan is damaging our marriage, would you stop seeing him outside work?”
Her face hardened.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“He’s my colleague.”
“I said outside work.”
“He’s also my friend.”
“I know.”
“And because you’ve become paranoid, I’m supposed to cut off a friend?”
“I’m telling you this is serious.”
“No. You’re giving me an ultimatum.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Do you?”
She pushed her plate away.
“Graham, I am not allowing your insecurity to dictate who I’m friends with.”
I studied her.
“What if I told you this has reached the point where I’m not sure I can stay married if it continues?”