I took a deep breath as if there was courage inside of the air’s oxygen. It was enough to propel me out of the car and once I did that, I kept it moving, not giving myself a chance to turn back or think this through. At the front door, I knocked, then reminded myself to inhale, exhale, repeat.

There was no answer and I felt...relieved. Maybe I didn’t want to know. Or maybe it was best to just get the answers from Jeremy.

Then, the door opened.

My assessment was quick: petite, about five-two, no taller than Jada. Young, about Jada’s age. Smooth skin, the color of butterscotch and a figure that belonged to a woman pre any pregnancies. She was more pretty than cute, and she was one other thing — smart. Because a flash of recognition crossed her face, but then, just as quickly, she recovered and asked, “May I help you?” as if I was a stranger.

I was a stranger, but I was a stranger that she knew. She was poised, I had to give her that.

“You tell me, can you help me?”

Her eyes were like a scanner, capturing every inch of me from the sunglasses resting on top of my head to my yellow T-strap sundress, and she ended at my sandals. When her eyes connected with mine again, she smirked. “You came to my door. So please, answer my question. May I help you?”

I hadn’t played the tape of this confrontation all the way through because I didn’t expect to be having this conversation on anybody’s doorstep in full public view. But since it didn’t look like I was going to receive an invitation inside, I said, “Yes, you can help me. I’d like some answers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your question?”

There was no point in standing on someone’s doorstep in the heat of a D.C. August afternoon and playing games. So, I got right to it. “What’s going on with you and my husband?”

She didn’t miss a beat when she said, “You might need to have that conversation with him.”

I noted she asked no question about who was my husband. She just stood there, feisty and bold. She wasn’t what I expected, but then what had I been expecting? How could a wife ever be expecting to find out that her husband had a chick on the side? I asked, “So, you do know my husband?”

Now, she rolled her eyes and laughed. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the door frame. “Everybody knows your husband.”

“Then you know why I'm here," I replied. "I’m trying to figure out what’s going on between the two of you.”

“And every time you ask that question, I’m going to give you the same answer. That’s a conversation you need to have with him.”