Dorm-supply shopping with Megan provided an effective distraction for much of the day, but as soon as they returned home and Megan ran off to see friends, Lina once again found her mind returning to the text messages. Phil may have deleted them from her phone, but he hadn’t deleted them from her memory.

A Rumi book sat on the kitchen island, and she flipped it open, her eyes traveling over the inscription inside the cover. “To Katie (My favorite 16-year-old)—I hope this book will come to mean as much to you as it has to me. All my best, Nick Drayton.” Lina covered her mouth as tears clouded her eyes. He’d given Katie Rumi to read. She recalled the words he spoke to her on Monday. I would never have cheated on you, Lina. And he would never have sent another woman those texts.

Is it possible to be with someone for twenty-four years and not really know them? she texted him.

When her cell phone rang at a few minutes past 4:00 p.m. her first thought was Nick, but instead it was Phil. “How are you?” he asked.

“I haven’t received any surprises via my phone, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Her voice was cool.

“I’m sorry. I would give anything to undo this.”

“Well, you can’t. Why are you calling?”

“To tell you not to hold dinner. It’s going to be a late night.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tonight—no later than 10 p.m.”

“Bye.”

“Lina?”

She slipped into a chair and sighed deeply into the phone. “What, Phil?”

“I love you. Please don’t lose sight of that.”

She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to remember when all I can see are the words you texted her. Goodbye.” She ended the call, and it immediately began ringing again. “Leave me alone, Phil,” she bit out. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now.”

“Fortunately for me, I’m not Phil.”

Lina closed her eyes when she realized it was Nick on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“That I was Phil. I caught that.”

She blushed. “I’m not usually like that, it’s just—”

“You don’t have to explain. I have some things I need to say, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Are you free?”

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Lina stepped into the entrance of the Wine Bar, a cozy restaurant about fifteen minutes from her house. She’d changed into a skirt, wedge heels and a sleeveless black silk V-neck top, her loose hair falling around her shoulders, her only jewelry a silver chain with a diamond pendant at her neck and her wedding ring on her left hand.