I went outside before Tony could drive away.
He was sitting behind the steering wheel when I reached the car.
"Tony."
He looked up sharply.
"Jen? What's going on?"
I stood beside the open window.
"What did Dakota give you?"
His hand moved toward his pocket.
"Nothing."
I stared at him.
I had seen the paper.
I had seen him read it.
I had seen his face change.
"Don't tell me nothing. I watched her hand it to you."
He looked past me toward our front door.
"Jennifer, I can't do this right now."
"Do what?"
"Have this conversation out here."
His voice was low, but I could hear the strain in it.
I glanced toward Dakota's house.
Her curtains were still.
The front door was closed.
Nobody else appeared to be watching us.
"I asked you a question."
Tony rubbed his forehead.
"It's complicated."
I felt my stomach tighten.
There were few words less comforting than that one when spoken by someone who had spent years telling you that you could ask him anything.
"Then explain the complicated part."
He glanced at the time on his dashboard.
"I'm going to be late."
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because he was talking about work as though the morning had not just split into two different lives.
The one we had shared at breakfast.
And the one he was now trying to keep separate from me.
"Tony, you looked terrified when you read that note."
He didn't answer.
"Why?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
I waited.
I had spent years knowing how to read his silences.
There was the silence he used when he was tired.
The one that meant he was irritated but didn't want to argue.
The one that came when he knew he had forgotten something and was hoping I wouldn't notice.
This was different.
He was trying to find a way out of the conversation without telling me anything.
"Please, Jen."
He looked at me at last.
"Can we talk tonight?"
"No."
My answer came out more firmly than I expected.
"I want to know what she gave you."
He pressed his lips together.
I could see the folded edge of the paper through the fabric of his pocket.
It was such a small thing.
A scrap of paper.
Something that could have been thrown away without a second thought.
Yet he was guarding it as though it belonged to someone else.
"Give it to me," I said.
He looked down.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
I thought he might refuse.
I thought he might start the car and tell me we were both being ridiculous.
Instead, he let out a long breath.
Then he reached into his pocket and handed me the note.
I took it carefully.
His fingers held on to the edge for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
Then he let go.
I unfolded the paper.
Two sentences.
Nothing more.
"You have until Friday to tell Jennifer the truth. Otherwise, I'll tell her myself."
I read it once.
Then again.
The words didn't change.
I had expected an explanation, perhaps a message about something Dakota had misunderstood or a problem Tony had promised to help her solve.
Instead, I had been given a deadline.
Friday.
And a truth that apparently belonged to me but had been kept from me.
I looked up.
"What truth?"
Tony's face had gone pale.
"Jen, please."
"No. Tell me what this means."
He stared at the paper in my hand.
"I need to explain it properly."
"Then start."
He took a breath.
For a moment, I thought he was finally going to speak.
Then he looked away.
Nothing came.
I felt something inside me shift.
Until that moment, I had been angry about the coffee.
I had been suspicious of Dakota's attention and annoyed that she seemed so comfortable inserting herself into our mornings.
But I had never seriously believed that Tony was hiding something important from me.
Now I was standing beside his car, holding proof that someone else believed he owed me the truth.
And he couldn't tell me what it was.
"How long have you known her?" I asked.
Tony looked confused.
"What?"
"Dakota. How long have you known her?"
He hesitated.
"I've told you. We met when she moved in."
I searched his face.
"Is that the truth?"
He looked wounded by the question.
"Of course."
But he didn't sound certain enough to reassure me.
I hated that I had begun measuring his answers that way.
I hated even more that he had given me a reason to.
I folded the note along its original crease.
"Why would she write this if there was nothing to tell me?"
Tony looked down at his hands.
"I don't know how to answer that."
"You don't know?"
He shook his head.
I waited for him to add something.
An explanation.
An objection.
Anything that might make the situation less frightening.
He remained silent.
I thought about the first day Dakota had come to our house with cookies.
The way she had asked Tony about coffee shops.
The five mornings she had brought him a cup.
The moment her expression changed when I asked her to stop.
Had I misunderstood all of it?
Or had I been looking at the wrong part of the story?
I couldn't tell.
That uncertainty was worse than a clear accusation would have been.
"Tony, I need you to tell me whether this has anything to do with our marriage."
He looked at me.
His eyes were tired.
"Please don't jump to conclusions."
"Then give me something else to think."
He had no answer.
I stepped back from the car.
He reached toward me, but I moved before he could touch my arm.
"Jennifer."
I turned away.
"Where are you going?"
Across the street.
He knew it before I said anything.
"Don't go over there."
I stopped and looked back at him.
"Why not?"
"Because we don't know what she wants."
I held up the note.
"She wants me to know something you won't tell me."
His face tightened.
"Let me handle this."
I couldn't believe he had said it.
Handle it.
As though the problem were a leaking pipe or an argument with a delivery company.
As though I were a complication to be managed instead of his wife.
"You've had your chance."
I started walking.
He called after me.
I heard his car door close.
Then his footsteps came up behind me.
"Jen, wait."
I kept going.
"Please. Just give me a little time."
I didn't stop.
I had given him eight years of trust.
I had given him the benefit of the doubt through every small misunderstanding that came with sharing a life.
I had believed him when he said Dakota was just being friendly.
Now he was asking me to give him more time without telling me what he needed it for.
I couldn't do that.
Not while the note was still folded in my hand.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Dakota Opened Her Door and Looked at My Husband First, Making Me Wonder Whether the Truth Had Been Waiting Across the Street All Along
I Thought Our New Neighbor Was Simply Being Kind Until My Husband Read Something He Never Wanted Me to See
Part 3 of 8
