“I’ve loved Martin since I was a little girl,” she said. “Growing up, he was the center of my world, but it all changed after he left for school. Our relationship cooled down considerably and I was . . . what shall I call it? Enchanted with Laurent when I first met him and frankly disillusioned with Martin’s rash manners and lack of sophistication. It was my mistake, I admit it. It was a time of confusion for me. I thought I loved Laurent, but I didn’t really know what he was like.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

We sat in silence at her revelation, but I needed to know more. I squeezed her hand.

“I think I understand what you mean.”

“You do?”

I nodded. “It’s not that uncommon. I’ve met men like him before.”

She breathed out, seemingly relieved.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Don Cristóbal,” she said, “but sometimes I feel I can talk to you about things I’ve never told any other man.”

It was a compliment, but instead of being pleased, I experienced tremendous remorse in the face of my lies.

She lowered her voice. “Laurent tried to”—she sniffed—“change at the beginning of our marriage to no avail. In the end, we reached an agreement. We both had things we wanted, things we needed. He wanted a wife, he wanted to be part of an important family. I wanted a French husband to please my father. Of course, I would’ve never considered marrying Laurent if Martin hadn’t betrayed me.”

She wiped her tears with her handkerchief.

“I know Martin is a womanizer but I can’t deny that I’m partly at fault for what happened between us.”

“What happened?”

She looked at me for a moment, as if debating whether she should speak more. “I hope that what I’m about to share stays between us.” Her finger traced the glossy tile on the countertop.

“Of course.”

She took a deep breath. “When Martin came back from school, I was horrible to him. First, I ignored him. I wouldn’t even speak to him. But I’d just met Laurent and was enthralled by him. You can understand that, right? Look at Laurent, there are not many men as handsome as he is.”

I shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat.

“Martin felt rejected by me,” Angélica said, “even though there was so much chemistry between us that, at times, I couldn’t deny him anything. He has that kind of power over women.”

Didn’t I know that.