They were all looking at Archie again, except for Susan, who was spreading peanut butter on a piece of wheat bread. Archie could smell the peanut butter from across the room.

“Am I supposed to be traumatized?” Archie asked. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid, all of those eyes brimming with concern, as if he’d survived some ordeal. “You know what’s traumatizing?” Archie lifted his shirt, exposing the thick scar that ran up his midsection. “Having your spleen forcibly removed without anesthesia. That’s traumatizing.” He directed his chin toward his laptop, which still sat open on the kitchen bar. “That, right there, is cuddling.”

He had already decided that he was going to tell them. Now he swallowed hard and made himself go through with it. “Look,” he said. “Some of you know this.” He glanced across the room at Susan, who peeked up from her sandwich. “The rest of you have at least heard rumors, so I’ll just be clear.” He shut his eyes. It was the only way he could say it. “I had an affair with her.”

“Archie,” Henry said sharply, “stop.”

Archie could feel the weight of everyone’s attention; it made his neck burn. An affair? Was that even the right word? Archie opened his eyes. “Gretchen Lowell and I had a sexual relationship during the period she infiltrated the investigation,” he said. The words tumbled out now. He lifted his hand, the one without the ring. “You’ll notice that I’m no longer married.” The apartment was completely silent. Claire threaded her hand through Henry’s, but Archie could tell from her expression that his confession hadn’t been news to her. He wondered what, if anything, Henry had told her and what she’d figured out on her own. “That’s what she’s doing on the tape,” he said. “Reliving old times.”

He’d done it.

He stole a glance at Susan. She was on the other side of the kitchen bar, facing him, eyebrows raised, frozen, with a piece of bread in one hand and a butter knife in the other.

Ngyun was facing Susan’s laptop screen, his features bathed in its blue light. But his hands weren’t moving over the keys, and his mouth was open.

Sanchez cleared his throat. He had his palms together, his fingertips touching his lip. “Well, shit,” he said quietly.

But Eaton was the only one who looked truly, utterly surprised. He was looking at Archie with abject astonishment. Apparently not everyone had heard the rumors after all.

“You slept with her?” Eaton sputtered. “With Gretchen Lowell?”

Archie met his eye. There was no going back now. “We had sex, yes,” he said. “Many times.”

“When did it end?” Eaton asked.

“She locked me in a basement and tortured me,” Archie said, deflecting the question. “What do you think?”