Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
“I am going to check some emails in the study before bed,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Do not wait up if you are tired.”
“I will just tidy up the kitchen,” I said.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, walking down the hall toward his office.
I stood in the kitchen, the single light over the sink casting long shadows across the dark countertops.
I walked over to the stainless steel trash bin under the island, my boots making no sound on the hardwood.
I pressed the foot pedal, and the lid swung open with a soft hiss.
Right on top of the recycled papers lay a small, white slip of paper, folded twice.
I reached in and picked it up, unfolding it under the small light of the range hood.
It was a delivery confirmation slip from a high-end baby boutique downtown.
The order was for a solid maple crib and a matching changing table, totaling four thousand eight hundred dollars.
At the bottom of the slip, the payment method was listed as the secondary credit card on our joint account.
