My mood was not improved the next morning when I opened the store. The hangover didn’t help. I knew better than to drink over a half bottle of red wine on an empty stomach. But my condition that morning was irrelevant. There would be few, if any customers. Low would come in at noon to allow me a lunch break and take care of the cleaning duties. I filled the kettle and plugged it in, knowing I had nothing to do but stand behind the till and stew about the mess that was my life. At least I could avoid Brian.

He had slept on the sofa in his office last night. In our eight years of marriage, we’d only spent a handful of nights in separate beds. When we were young and passionate and learning to live together, we’d had some huge fights. Those issues seemed so frivolous now, our outrage back then so misguided and naive. This felt different. There was a gravitas to our anger now. We had broken our vows, slept with other people, betrayed each other’s trust. This was real.

I suddenly felt a wave of homesickness—not for the life Brian and I had shared in Seattle, but for my life before I even met him. I wanted to leave the island and go back to Vancouver, to my parents, my high school friends, to a simpler time. It wouldn’t be easy, but I could start over there, get back into marketing or even go back to school and learn something new. Rents were high in Vancouver, the price of real estate astronomical, but my parents would let me stay with them until I was on my feet. I could close the door on this messy chapter, this fucked-up experiment, and reinvent myself.

The kettle whistled then, jarring me from my thoughts. As I poured boiling water over a tea bag, I shook away the fantasy. I wasn’t ready to leave the island. And I certainly wasn’t ready to leave the man I had loved my entire adult life. What Brian and I had was worth fighting for. But I was angry at him. He put all the blame for what happened that night on Freya, Max, and me, and he needed to accept his share of responsibility. If Brian had known the couples’ swap would cause such damage, why had he gone along with it? Why hadn’t he rejected Freya’s seduction? Why hadn’t he come to the guest bedroom and taken me home before we’d done things that we couldn’t take back? Brian had no right to act so innocent, so holier than thou. He had slept with my best friend. The thought made me even queasier.

The door tinkled then, and I hurried out of the back room to greet a welcome customer. But it was only Low, arriving for her eleven thirty shift.

“’Morning,” I muttered.

“Rough night?”