“I would say we need to,” she said calmly. She’d been nursing a tea for the last few hours, just pouring hot water over the same tea bag again and again. It didn’t matter; Winnie wasn’t tasting anything.

“Winnie,” he began. “There’s just been a lot of stress lately—on both of us—I wasn’t myself.”

Winnie waited a few beats for him to say more, to apply some salve to the wounds he had inflicted with his actions. More, anyway, than just “I wasn’t myself.” She leaned closer—just an inch or so to urge him to finish his sentence.

“Oh…oh,” she said. “Is that the end, are you—?”

“Goddammit!” Nigel slammed his fist on the surface of the table. Winnie’s salt and pepper shakers wobbled. “Nothing is good enough for you.”

She blinked at him for a few minutes in disbelief. Nigel was acting like she was chiding him for not picking up the right brand of yogurt.

“I didn’t say that. Was that an…admission?”

Nigel’s compact frame was tense, despite how relaxed he tried to appear. Her attraction to this man was primal because, even as gaslighted as she was, she wanted him in a way that made her feel shameful.

“Why are you like this, Winnie? So suspicious. I’ve never given you reason. It makes me feel like I’ve done something when I haven’t.”

“But haven’t you?” Winnie couldn’t help it, her face was incredulous. Was it really happening this way? She’d caught her husband having a cozy lunch date with Dulce fucking Tucker, and now he was angry with her? It felt too weird to be real. Winnie had met Dulce during the last Christmas party at Nigel’s work when she was a new hire. She’d come over from a temp agency when their secretary was out on maternity leave, and then later, when said secretary decided to be a stay-at-home mom, they took Dulce on permanently. Nigel used to make jokes about her name, and Winnie joined in, figuring it was better than wondering if he was attracted to her. Turns out he was.

“Winnie—” he tried again. “We’ve both made terrible mistakes—”

“Have you slept with her or not?”

He dropped his head. “No.”

She didn’t believe him, but he’d never change his story. When Nigel lied, he stayed committed to that lie. She knew that better than anyone.

“But you were planning to?” She could see him mulling over this one—stewing would be a better word. Under the table her hands grabbed at each other, holding tight.

“Yes.” He seemed almost relieved to say it.

“Why?”

“I don’t know…boredom.” He said it with a challenge. “You’re always inside your head. I can’t get in there.”

“Ohh, that’s not it.” She pressed her lips together so hard she imagined they looked like Nigel’s.