“It was a last-minute decision,” he said, tapping his thigh as he stood up. “I will be gone for three days, starting tomorrow morning.”
He did not look at me as he took his pajamas into the guest bathroom and locked the door behind him.
I stood by the closet door, my fingers tracing the keyhole where the leather suitcase was now hidden.
The suitcase had been a wedding gift from his father, a heavy piece of English leather that still smelled of oil and polish.
He had only used it twice before, both times for trips we took together before the triplets were born.
Now, it sat behind a locked door, packed for a conference that had never appeared on our shared digital calendar.
The gray morning light was just beginning to touch the hallway at six o’clock when Ethan came out of the bedroom.
He was fully dressed in his charcoal suit, his leather suitcase gripped tightly in his right hand.
