As if sensing her attention, his eyes opened. He pushed his arms against the headboard for an intense stretch. “Good morning.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She was lying on her side, propped up on her elbow, facing him.

“It’s okay. I want to get in a run before I leave for the game.”

“You’re not running with your group this weekend?” He’d joined a running group in Baltimore a few months earlier and usually ran with them on Saturday or Sunday.

“No.”

“What’s your plan for the day? Besides the game and Wayne and Diane’s, I mean.” Her thoughts were on the text from the previous evening.

“I told your mom I’d put in a new garbage disposal. Hers is leaking. I’ll swing by with Logan after the game.”

“There’s nothing else you have to do?”

“Not that I know of. Why? Do you need me for something?”

“I was hoping you could fix the frame around Katie’s door,” she said, relieved he wasn’t planning to see Kim. “She asked again the other day. You said you would.”

“I said I would when I was sure it wouldn’t happen again. Do you think it’s safe to do that?”

“Yes, I really do.” The Katie who slammed her door hard enough to break the wooden frame was thankfully a distant memory. “She watched television with us on Thursday night. Did I tell you that?”

“No.”

“Dr. Drayton said—.”

“No.” He shook his head as he covered her lips with his fingertips. “I’ll fix her door, but in return, I’d like to go a day without discussing Katie or Dr. Drayton.”

Lina stared at the picture of Kim Ryan on her computer screen. Of the seventy-five associates at Phil’s law firm there was only one named Kim. She’d almost convinced herself the text was innocent, but one look at the blonde who looked more like a model than an attorney ramped the apprehension she’d felt the evening before to new heights. She combed her fingers back through her hair, staring at the woman she was sure had authored the text to her husband. According to her bio, she’d graduated from law school five years prior, which meant if she’d gone straight from college to law school she was about thirty—ten years younger than Lina. She’d come to the firm six months earlier. Lina tried to recall her face at the holiday party without success. She closed her laptop and pushed it away from her as if trying to create distance between herself and the other woman.

This was crazy. She was finding Phil guilty of having an affair because he’d received a text from an attractive associate. Lina conjured up an image of him the night before, his body over hers as he looked into her eyes and told her he loved her. She was being crazy. He wasn’t having an affair.