away.
Maybe someone had just taken a photograph.
Maybe she had stumbled.
Maybe I had walked in at the exact wrong moment.
Then Carl leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear.
She laughed.
And moved even closer.
My stomach dropped.
I crossed the room.
“Carl.”
He turned.
For half a second, his smile vanished.
Then it returned.
“Hey.”
Sheila was still beside him.
His hand was still on her hip.
I stared at it.
“What the hell is going on?”
Conversations around us began to stop.
Carl took a sip from his drink.
Then he looked around the room.
And what I saw on his face wasn’t panic.
It wasn’t even guilt.
It was relief.
Like he had been waiting for this confrontation so he wouldn’t have to start it himself.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose there’s no point pretending anymore.”
“Pretending what?”
He shrugged.
“I guess it’s
