I told myself I was paranoid.
An hour later, I was on the operating table.
And fifteen minutes after that, I heard about the envelope.
In recovery, my head cleared enough to walk.
Nicole was in the consultation room. I shuffled toward the bathroom, hands shaking, every instinct screaming that I needed to see what I wasn’t supposed to.
The small frosted window above the sink gave me just enough view.
I saw Nurse Lindsay hand Nicole a manila envelope.
I saw Nicole open it.
I saw her face change.
Shock first.
Then something else.
Satisfaction.
Relief.
Tears welled in her eyes, but these weren’t tears of fear or grief. These were tears of someone who had just gotten confirmation.
Then Dr. Mercer walked in, closed the door, and sat beside her.
His hand covered hers.
His thumb brushed her knuckles.
I vomited into the sink.
Back in the recovery bed, I texted Brandon Walsh.
I need you. Something’s very wrong.
He replied instantly.
Where are you? UCHealth?
Can you pick me up? Don’t tell Nicole.
I didn’t know what was in that envelope.
But I knew my wife had lied to me.
And whatever she was hiding had just crossed a line I couldn’t walk back from.
The night after I texted Brandon, I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Mercer’s voice again. He can’t know. I replayed the sound of the monitor spiking, the way my heart had tried to escape my chest while my body stayed frozen. I lay next to Nicole in the dark, listening to her breathing, steady and calm, and wondered how long she’d been able to sleep beside me while keeping secrets big enough to destroy everything.
She woke before I did and kissed my cheek softly.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Sore. Tired.”
She nodded, already distracted, already moving on.
I watched her leave the room and felt something inside me harden into resolve. Whatever was in that envelope, whatever she and Mercer thought I couldn’t know, I was done being the last person in my own life to find out the truth.
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