Enough to say her name without asking.
Enough to sound like they had argued before.
My chest tightened.
“How do you know my husband?”
Sabrina looked at me.
“Your husband?”
Then she laughed again.
“He told me he wasn’t married.”
I stared at Julian.
He rubbed one hand over his face.
“Camille, please.”
“Please what?”
“Let me explain.”
I looked at Sabrina.
“How long?”
She answered before he could.
“Five months.”
The restaurant suddenly felt too bright.
Too quiet.
Too public.
I looked at Julian.
“Five months?”
He didn’t answer.
That silence became an answer anyway.
Sabrina pulled out the empty chair beside us.
“I met him at a fundraiser in Hilton Head.”
Julian immediately said, “Sabrina, stop.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“He said his name was Julian. He said he was divorced. He said the marriage ended two years ago.”
I could barely breathe.
“We had breakfast together this morning.”
Sabrina froze.
“What?”
I almost laughed again.
“He kissed me goodbye before work.”
Her face changed.
For the first time, anger gave way to confusion.
She looked at Julian.
“You told me she lived in Virginia.”
I stared at him.
“Who lives in Virginia?”
Julian stood.
“We’re leaving.”
I didn’t move.
“No.”
“Camille.”
“No.”
I looked at Sabrina.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
She unlocked her phone.
“He said his ex-wife moved to Richmond after the divorce.”
I felt cold.
She turned the screen toward me.
The first thing I saw was a photograph of Julian.
He was standing in a kitchen I recognized.
My kitchen.
