The feeling was darkening. I found myself grabbing his keys and walking to his car, figuring I’d drive to some of his regular places. I made a mental checklist: the bar, his studio, the deck, the path he usually took when he walked home. The feeling was in my guts, churning, creeping its way onto my chest. It sat there as I drove, trying to suffocate me. I reminded myself to breathe.

I texted one of Jack’s friends to see if they knew where he had gone. He said Jack had left the bar hours ago. I circled the streets downtown, hoping I would find him stumbling along. I was calling him frantically, one eye on the road, one eye on my phone.

Reluctantly, I decided there was nothing I could do but go home and wait for him. I turned the car around, my palms forming sweaty prints on the steering wheel.

Parking the car, I noticed the light was on above our door. It was possible that someone walking by had set off the motion sensor, as our house was right on the street. I hated this fact, but Jack always said it placed us right in the world without ever having to leave our living room. But it was also possible that Jack was home. I increased my pace, reaching for the door.

Once inside, I tossed my keys on the entryway table. “Jack?”

No response.

I removed my shoes and jacket, calling again: “Jack?”

“I’m in the kitchen.”

I moved toward his voice.

Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, two tumblers filled with whiskey in front of him. He was massaging the back of his head with the outstretched tips of his fingers.

“Where the fuck were you? I’ve been calling and looking everywhere for you.”

“Sit down, Grace.” He motioned to the chair next to him, then edged the tumbler in my direction. “We need to talk.”

I perched on the edge of the chair.

“Grace, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it.” Jack paused, interlacing his fingers and placing them on the table in front of him. “I’ve been seeing someone else.”

It happened quick, like I had been stabbed in the stomach. Sharp and blinding. And then everything went fuzzy. “What?” The word barely came out.

He spoke more slowly this time, but his words were the same. “I’ve been seeing someone else.”

All the blood drained from my body. My face muscles collapsed. I felt as if they were being sucked to the floor. “Who?”

“Does that really matter?” He looked tired, all sleepy-eyed and glossy.

“It fucking matters to me,” I shouted. “Who is it?”

“Jessica, okay?” Jack slammed his fists down on the table. “It’s Jessica.”

Teeth. Brown eyes. Fingers in his hair.

“Jessica?” I shot from my chair, immediately on my feet. “Fucking Jessica? Seriously?”

He nodded, taking a long gulp from his glass.

“How long?”

“How long what?” Jack remained seated, staring into his glass.