Worry all over his face, worry in the awkward way he scooted away from me, worry in the way his hand adhered to my knee. I imagined what he was thinking—that I was about to confess to an affair, or financial troubles, or cancer. I wondered if he’d be relieved to discover the truth, or if it would be as devastating to him as it felt to me.

“Mackenzie, whatever happened, we’ll get through it together.”

“You don’t even know what it is. So how can you promise that?”

“Are . . . are you leaving me for someone else?”

It had been a constant question of his, even after eighteen years of marriage. As if I had the time or the means to find another man. I was literally home all day every day, with Owen always watching me. When he was at work, our security cameras captured my every move, any comings and goings. A waste of money when you live in a gated community, but “you can’t put a price tag on safety,” he’d say. When I headed out, he clocked my mileage like he was my auditor. He checked my phone records, browsing history, everything . . . everything that he knew about.

It was the things he didn’t know about that I could hide. Something so much worse than an affair.

It was ludicrous that his thoughts always turned to infidelity, because I would need to already have a life in order to chase a new one.

“Seriously, Owen, that’s what you think I need to talk about—that I’m cheating on you?”

“I don’t know. You sound anxious about whatever it is. I’m grasping at straws.”

“No, it’s not an affair.”

“Then spit it out already.” He was losing patience, and so was I.

“First promise me that you won’t fly off the handle.” The promise was laughable, but it was worth a shot. Owen was anything but calculating. Overreaction was his middle name. Never thinking anything through.

“Okay, okay, I promise, but this is getting exhausting. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“On Sunday night at Robin’s dinner party, I walked in on Aria and Ryan in the basement. Ryan was . . . I can’t say it, Owen.” I choked on the word, like it was sharp glass stuck in my throat. Rape. I couldn’t say it. It was too revolting a word to speak aloud.

“Can’t say what? Did Ryan do something to Aria?”

I nodded. That was the best I could do. I needed him to follow the trail on his own.

“Did they have sex, Mackenzie?”

I nodded again, then shook my head. I set the coffee cup down on my nightstand, unable to steady it in my trembling hands. “I don’t think it was consensual.”