I reached Dakota's porch before Tony caught up with me.
The note had become damp where my fingers gripped it.
I smoothed it against my palm.
The words were still clear.
You have until Friday.
Tell Jennifer the truth.
I knocked on the door.
Once.
Then again, harder.
There was movement inside.
I heard footsteps approach, followed by the sound of a lock turning.
Dakota opened the door.
Her expression changed when she saw me.
For a moment, she looked almost as though she had been expecting someone else.
Then her eyes dropped to the paper in my hand.
Behind me, Tony stopped at the bottom of the steps.
I could feel him there without turning around.
Dakota looked past my shoulder.
Her gaze found him.
Then she looked at me again.
"Jennifer."
She said my name quietly.
I had crossed the street prepared to be angry.
I had imagined her making excuses, pretending the note meant something harmless, or telling me that I had misunderstood what I saw.
But the sight of her standing there made my anger falter.
She looked frightened.
Not embarrassed.
Not annoyed that I had come to her house.
Frightened.
I held up the note.
"I need you to tell me what this is about."
Dakota glanced at Tony again.
He hadn't moved from the bottom of the steps.
"Can we talk about this another time?" she asked.
I stared at her.
"Another time?"
She swallowed.
"Please."
I couldn't understand why she was asking me to wait.
She was the one who had given my husband a deadline.
She was the one who had put a secret between us.
And now, with the note in my hand, she wanted to postpone the conversation.
"What exactly is Tony supposed to tell me by Friday?"
Her face lost what little color it had left.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I looked back at my husband.
He stood with his hands at his sides, his eyes fixed on Dakota.
I had seen Tony nervous before.
I had seen him embarrassed, angry, and worried about things that mattered to him.
I had never seen him stand so still.
It was as if he believed one wrong word from either of us would make everything worse.
I turned back to Dakota.
"Does this have something to do with the coffees?"
She shook her head quickly.
"No."
The answer came so fast that I almost asked her to repeat it.
Then she looked down.
"I mean, not in the way you think."
My heart began beating harder.
"What way do I think?"
Dakota pressed her fingers against the edge of the door.
She seemed to be searching for words she couldn't bring herself to say.
I had spent weeks wondering whether she was interested in my husband.
Whether the coffees were an excuse to see him every morning.
Whether I had been foolish to accept her friendly explanations.
Now she was telling me that the coffee had not been the point.
I wanted to know what the point was.
"Have you known Tony before you moved here?"
Dakota didn't answer.
That silence landed between us.
I glanced toward Tony.
He looked at the ground.
My hands tightened around the note.
"Tony, look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"Have you known her before?"
He hesitated.
It was brief.
But I saw it.
"I told you, we met when she moved in."
I wanted to believe that answer.
I also wanted to ask why it had taken him so long to say it.
Dakota's eyes filled with something I couldn't identify.
It might have been guilt.
It might have been fear.
I was no longer sure I knew how to read anyone standing in front of me.
"Then why are you both acting like this?" I asked.
Neither of them replied.
A car passed behind us.
Its tires made a soft rushing sound over the road.
Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
The ordinary noises of our neighborhood continued while I stood on Dakota's porch, trying to understand how a folded piece of paper had become more important than anything either of them could say aloud.
Dakota finally looked directly at me.
"I never wanted you to find out this way."
The words made my stomach drop.
Find out what?
I waited for her to continue.
She looked toward Tony again.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
I saw it.
So did she.
Her mouth tightened.
For the first time since I had met her, Dakota looked angry.
Not at me.
At him.
"Tony," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You can't keep doing this."
He took one step toward the porch.
"Don't."
It was the first time I had heard him speak to her as though he had authority over what she could say.
Dakota flinched.
I turned to him.
"Don't what?"
He looked at me, then at her.
"Jennifer, please. Let's go home."
I almost asked him whether he understood what he was saying.
Home was the place where we had eaten breakfast together that morning.
It was where I had stood at the kitchen sink, watching him accept a note from another woman.
It was where he had told me he had nothing to worry about, then refused to explain why his face had changed when he read two sentences.
I didn't want to go home with questions.
I wanted answers.
"Not until someone tells me what's happening."
Dakota drew a slow breath.
Her fingers tightened around the door.
For one moment, I thought she was finally going to explain everything.
Instead, she looked at me with an expression that made me feel suddenly ashamed of every assumption I had made about her.
Whatever she knew, it wasn't something she was enjoying keeping from me.
She seemed to be carrying it.
And Tony seemed desperate to keep her carrying it.
"Jennifer," she said, "there are things you deserve to know."
"Then tell me."
Her eyes moved toward my husband one last time.
He stood rigid at the bottom of the steps.
Dakota looked back at me.
"I can't do this while he's standing here."
I stared at her.
I had expected a denial.
An accusation.
Perhaps even a confession that she had feelings for Tony.
I hadn't expected her to suggest that his presence was the reason she couldn't speak.
I stepped back from the doorway.
Tony looked at me as though he wanted to stop me from asking another question.
For the first time that morning, I didn't care what he wanted.
I looked at Dakota and saw the fear in her face.
Then I looked at my husband and saw the same fear reflected in his.
They were afraid of the same truth.
But only one of them had written down a deadline.
I folded the note and held it tightly in my hand.
"Friday isn't good enough for me," I said.
Dakota lowered her eyes.
Tony said my name.
I didn't turn toward him.
I had crossed the street believing I was confronting a woman who had become too interested in my husband.
I stood on her porch realizing that I might have misunderstood the entire situation.
I still didn't know what the truth was.
But I knew it was there.
And for the first time since Dakota had arrived in our neighborhood, I was no longer willing to let either of them decide when I was allowed to hear it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: My Husband Wanted Me to Go Home, but Dakota Had Finally Admitted That the Secret Was Bigger Than Either of Us Could Ignore
I Thought Our New Neighbor Was Simply Being Kind Until My Husband Read Something He Never Wanted Me to See
Part 4 of 8
