“That sounds amazing.” She squeezed her mother-in-law’s hand in appreciation and hurried up the stairs, before Annette could change her mind.

Except when she opened the door to their master bedroom suite, her husband was perched on the edge of their linen duvet, feverishly texting.

“Knock knock, Mister Love Man,” she purred, cocking a hand on her hip, and sucking in her stomach. They hadn’t gotten naked during daylight hours since Lincoln’s birth.

Mister Love didn’t even bother to look up.

Her shoulders caved a little. “What’s going on? You look intense.”

He started in surprise, darkening his phone and setting it—facedown—on his walnut nightstand, right beside the sterling silver frame of their wedding portrait.

“Just… It’s no one. Or, I mean…” Ethan paused. “Work stuff. I hate to do this, but I need to get back to Boston right away. I’m going to hop in the shower and hit the road.”

“What? No! You literally just got back.” She crossed her arms, meaning business. “Plus, it’s Lincoln’s birthday and your mother is here. Whatever it is can wait until Monday.”

“Enough with the guilt trips.” His voice was pained, exasperated. “I’m sorry, but if I say that I have to go. Seriously. I have to go.” And with that he slammed the double doors to their bathroom behind him.

She glanced at his phone sitting innocently and unoccupied.

Something wasn’t right.

She felt that truth all the way to her bones.

But Ethan also wasn’t the cheating type. Of course, he had also been known as a bit of a player before she entered the picture. They had met while her company was redesigning Ethan’s tech firm’s space, and he had charmed her one morning near the coffeemaker with his knowledge of all things Frank Lloyd Wright and his slight twang she couldn’t quite place.

“Careful around that one,” one of his associates, a woman around Sadie’s age, had said with a wink after Ethan had walked away. “He’s a great guy, but with those bedroom eyes? He gets around.”

“I was only being friendly,” Sadie had laughed at the remark, swearing she wasn’t interested.

But even if Ethan had a heartthrob past, he’d certainly never acted like it since falling for Sadie. From their earliest dates, Ethan had always been attentive and adoring. He worshipped her every feature, even her weird belly button and freckled forehead. He would accompany her on visits to the art museum and patiently read the Globe while she flipped through design books for hours on end. He got along well with her parents and knew her Starbucks order by heart.

So why hadn’t he given her a straight answer about who he had been frantically texting?

A sinking sickness welled within her. What if he’d met another woman in Boston? She began to pace. Maybe that was why he’d surprised her with the Cranberry Cove cottage. It was genius, really. He could hide his wife and child up in Maine while sleeping his way through the city.