“Oh shit!” I screamed.

Connor came running. “What happened, babe?”

I hated when he called me that. Babe. Made me think of Paul Bunyan’s blue ox, and I’m a size four.

“Connor, I don’t know how it happened,” I lied, “I think I just sent your phone into the garbage disposal.”

“You couldn’t have,” he said, reaching past the rubber gasket and into the depths of the disposal. I thought of turning it on then, but I didn’t. His face fell as he did indeed encounter what was once his phone. My face was a mask. I would never reveal to my goddamn husband what I knew. In court or in life, the element of surprise can only be used to great effect once.

“Sorry,” I said, pretending to be merely upset at ruining a piece of electronics, when inside I was a Cuisinart of anger and regret about choosing a man who could kick me to the curb like I was nothing.

You goddamn idiot, Connor.

Why would you hurt me like this?

“It’s okay,” he said, looking at the mangled remains of his recovered phone while stacking his plate with pancakes and ladling on the blueberry compote. I would have added rat poison to it if I’d had time—or thought of it. But I didn’t. He was oblivious. I wondered who the whore was that he was seeing. I suspected it was that Lynnette from the Blue Door. She had endless legs and was too pretty to be trusted.

“I was going to make bacon,” I told him. “But the time got away from me.”

Connor stabbed his pancake with a fork. “No problem,” he said. “I could lose a couple of pounds.”

He wanted me to say he looked great. Or did he not think he looked good enough for her? I didn’t say anything.

“I needed a new phone anyway,” he said, stuffing some pancake into his big fat mouth.

I loved him, but I wouldn’t have minded if he choked just then.

I looked at the phone retrieved from the disposal. It looked like some junior NRA types used it for target practice.

“SIM card is probably shot,” I said.

“That’s okay,” he said, always upbeat. “I don’t have many contacts that matter. I guess I’m going to the phone store after breakfast, then off to run a few errands. Do you need anything?”

“No,” I told him. “I’m good.”

I wanted to say, “No, you’ve just crushed me to the core.”

“I was going to make that bacon,” I said.

“That’s all right, babe. I’m good. Had a full meal last night.”

“At the Blue Door?” I asked.

He looked at me quizzically. “Yeah. Of course. Where else?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Thought maybe you went out after work. You’ve been doing that lately some.”

“Once,” he said, slightly defensively.