Catherine? He stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his scotch. What are you, how did you? Good evening, David, Mark said, his tone perfectly modulated. Elise? What a coincidence finding you both here.
Elise recovered faster than David, her social training kicking in despite her evident distress. Mark? Catherine? Are you two, together? The implication was clear, and I saw a flash of hope in David’s eyes, thinking perhaps he could turn this around, accuse me of the very betrayal he was committing. Actually, I replied smoothly, Mark and I just met a few days ago, when I discovered that my husband has been sleeping with his wife for the past six months.
The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of reaction through both their faces. Around us, nearby diners were beginning to notice the tension, a few heads turning our way. Cathy, this isn’t, we should discuss this privately, David began, reaching for my arm.
I stepped back, avoiding his touch. Privately? Like the private room you booked at the Westlake Hotel last month? Or the private weekend in Napa while I thought you were at a conference? Elise, Mark said, his calm somehow more devastating than any shouting could have been. Would you like to explain the text messages? The hotel receipts? The plans for a future that apparently didn’t include either of us? Elise’s perfect composure cracked.
You went through my phone? Her voice rose slightly. You had no right. No right? Mark’s eyebrow arched.
As your husband of 12 years, I had no right to know you were betraying our marriage vows? Keep your voice down, David hissed, looking anxiously at the surrounding tables. People are watching. Yes, they are, I agreed.
Uncomfortable, isn’t it? Being exposed in public. Catherine, please, David’s voice took on the soothing tone he used when trying to manage difficult clients. This is all a misunderstanding.
Elise and I work together. Don’t. Mark’s single word cut through David’s attempt at deception.
Don’t compound your betrayal with lies. We have all the evidence. Every message, every photo, every secret meeting.
The color returned to David’s face in an angry flush. You’ve been spying on us? Both of you? What is this, some kind of setup? Setup? I laughed, the sound brittle even to my own ears. You set yourselves up.
We merely compared notes. I think perhaps we should join you, Mark suggested, signaling a waiter. Since we all have so much to discuss.
Before either David or Elise could object, Mark had arranged for our settings to be transferred to their table. The wait staff, professional but clearly intrigued by the unfolding drama, quickly set four places. Perfect, Mark said, holding my chair as I sat directly across from David.
Now we can have a civilized conversation. David looked trapped, his eyes darting between Mark and me, then to the exit. As if calculating his escape options.
Elise sat rigidly beside him, her face a careful mask, though her rapidly blinking eyes betrayed her distress. Shall we order? I suggested, picking up a menu with steady hands that surprised even me. The sea bass is supposed to be excellent.
I’ve lost my appetite, Elise muttered, shooting a venomous look at her husband. That’s a shame, Mark replied smoothly. But then, you’ve always been prone to dramatic gestures, haven’t you, Elise? A waiter approached with a wine list, hesitating as he sensed the tension at our table.
Bring another bottle of the Vieuve Clicquot, Mark instructed. We’re celebrating tonight. Celebrating what? David demanded once the waiter had gone, his voice low but intense.
The destruction of two marriages? Is that what gets you off, Carrington? Mark’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Our marriages were destroyed the moment you decided my wife was an acceptable addition to your extracurricular activities, more. This is insane, Elise hissed, leaning forward.
You both completely overreacted. Mark, we can discuss this at home. Like we discussed it when I asked about your late nights at the office? Mark countered, his composure never wavering.
Or when I questioned the credit card charges from hotels I never visited? You’ve had plenty of opportunities for discussion, Elise. You chose deception instead. I turned to David, who was staring at his water glass as if it held answers.
Did you ever plan to tell me? Or was I just supposed to go on believing in our marriage while you built a life with her on the side? David finally met my eyes. Catherine, you have to understand, things between us haven’t been the same for years. You’re always wrapped up in your work, always.
Don’t you dare blame her, Elise snapped unexpectedly. You told me your marriage was practically over, that Catherine was cold and distant. I what? David’s head whipped toward her in alarm.
That she didn’t understand you like I did, Elise continued, her composure cracking further. You said you were staying only because the timing wasn’t right to leave. Her words hit me hard.
David had not only betrayed me but had rewritten our entire marriage to justify his infidelity. Is that true, David? I asked quietly. Is that what you told her? The champagne arrived, creating a momentary interruption.
Mark calmly instructed the waiter to pour four glasses, then dismissed him with a generous tip and a request for privacy. Answer her question, more, Mark said when we were alone again. Is that what you told my wife? David’s silence was answer enough.
You coward, I whispered. I didn’t mean, David began, then stopped himself. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.
No, I imagine not, I replied. You probably envisioned years more of deception. Maybe eventually leaving me with some sanitized explanation that preserved your image as the good guy.
We didn’t want to hurt anyone, Elise insisted, reaching for her champagne with a slightly trembling hand. And yet, here we are, Mark observed dryly. All thoroughly hurt.
What do you want from us? David demanded, looking between Mark and me. Public humiliation? Money? What’s the point of this ambush? Mark lifted his champagne glass. Clarity.
Truth. The opportunity to look you both in the eyes as we inform you that your carefully constructed fantasy is over. And to give you this, I added, reaching into my purse to withdraw a sealed envelope, which I placed in front of David.
Divorce papers, already filed. You’ll be formally served tomorrow, but I thought you should know what’s coming. David stared at the envelope as if it might bite him.
You can’t be serious. Oh, but I am. I turned to Mark.
Your turn. Mark produced a similar envelope and placed it before Elise. Likewise.
My attorney will contact yours tomorrow. Elise’s careful mask finally crumbled. Mark, please, we can work through this.
It was a mistake, a stupid mistake. A six-month mistake? Mark raised an eyebrow. With elaborate planning, hotel rooms, and discussions of your future together? That’s not a mistake, Elise.
That’s a choice. Multiple choices, made day after day. Catherine, David tried again, reaching for my hand across the table.
I pulled away before he could touch me. We’ve been together since college. Twelve years of marriage.
You can’t just throw that away over one. Affair? I finished for him. I’m not throwing away anything, David.
You already did that the first time you took her to bed. The wine glass shattered against the restaurant floor, fragments catching the light like diamonds before disappearing into darkness. Elise had knocked it over as she stood abruptly, her composure completely gone now.
You smug bastard, she hissed at her husband. You promised we would handle this carefully. You promised we would both leave our marriages with dignity once the timing was right.
Mark looked up at his wife, his calm finally tinged with genuine curiosity. And when exactly was the right timing scheduled, Elise? After Sophia’s graduation? After you’d secured your position on the museum board using my donations and connections? You never understood me, she spat. Never appreciated what I gave up to be your perfect corporate wife while you hid behind your law books and your stupid camera.
I watched the exchange with a strange detachment, as if viewing a play whose ending I already knew. Beside me, David sat frozen, perhaps realizing for the first time the full scope of the disaster he’d helped create. I think we’re done here, Mark said evenly, standing and offering me his hand.
Catherine? Wait, David pleaded, finally finding his voice again. Catherine, don’t leave like this. Let’s talk about this please.
We can fix this. I regarded my husband, the man I’d loved for most of my adult life, and felt a curious emptiness where pain should have been. There’s nothing to fix, David.
It’s already broken beyond repair. I stood and took Mark’s arm, conscious of the eyes following us as we made our way through the now silent restaurant. Behind us, I heard Elise’s voice rise in recrimination, then David’s angry response.
Their private drama was becoming very public indeed. Outside in the cool night air, I finally allowed myself to tremble, the adrenaline of confrontation giving way to exhaustion. Are you all right? Mark asked quietly, his hand steady at my elbow.
No, I answered honestly. But I will be. His driver appeared with impeccable timing, opening the car door for us.
As we settled into the back seat, I caught a final glimpse of the restaurant entrance, where David had followed us outside and stood watching our departure, his face a mask of shock and dawning comprehension. I didn’t look back again. The morning after our confrontation at Oriole brought rain, heavy sheets of it pounding against the windows of the hotel room I’d checked into the previous night.
I hadn’t been able to face returning to the house I shared with David, not after everything that had transpired. I lay in the unfamiliar bed, listening to the storm and scrolling through the flood of text messages David had sent throughout the night. Catherine, please call me.
We need to talk about this rationally. It wasn’t what you think. Elise and I got carried away but we were going to end it.
I never meant to hurt you. Where are you? I’m worried. This is insane.
You can’t just throw away 12 years of marriage without giving me a chance to explain. You planned this with Carrington? How long have you two been working together behind our backs? The last one almost made me laugh at its hypocrisy. I silenced my phone and ordered room service, strong coffee and toast I couldn’t bring myself to eat.
By noon, the rain had cleared and I forced myself to face the next step, returning home to collect some essential belongings. I’d hoped to avoid seeing David but his car was in the driveway when I arrived. Taking a deep breath, I used my key and entered the house that no longer felt like mine.
David was waiting in the living room, unshaven and bleary-eyed, looking as though he hadn’t slept. He jumped up when he saw me. Catherine.
Thank God. Where have you been? I’ve been calling all night. I needed space.
I kept my voice neutral, moving past him toward the stairs. I’m just here to pack some things. He followed me.
You can’t just leave. We need to talk about this. We have nothing to talk about.
I entered our bedroom, his bedroom now, I supposed, and pulled a suitcase from the closet. Nothing to— David ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Catherine, you ambushed me in a public restaurant with another man.
You filed for divorce without even giving me a chance to explain. I turned to face him, anger finally breaking through my careful composure. Explain what, David? How you’d been lying to me for months? How you told another woman our marriage was practically over? Or maybe how you planned to keep deceiving me until it was convenient to leave? It wasn’t like that.
His voice dropped, taking on the earnest tone he used when trying to close difficult deals. Elise and I, it started as just friendship. Then things got complicated.
We made a mistake, yes, but— A six-month mistake, I echoed Mark’s words from the night before. With hotel rooms and secret meetings and plans for the future. That’s not a mistake, David.
That’s a deliberate campaign of deception. I still love you, he insisted, moving closer. Elise was, she was exciting, different.
But what we have is real, Catherine. Twelve years. You can’t just throw that away.
I stepped back, maintaining distance between us. You already threw it away. I’m just acknowledging what’s already happened.
Give me another chance. His eyes were pleading now. People make mistakes.
Marriages survive affairs all the time. Not this marriage. I turned back to the closet, pulling clothes from hangers and placing them methodically in the suitcase.
Not after what you said about me to her. Not after you made me feel crazy for suspecting something was wrong all these months. What can I do? There was desperation in his voice now.
Tell me what I can do to fix this. I paused, a sweater in my hands, the blue cashmere he’d given me for Christmas last year. Had he already been seeing Elise then? The thought made me drop the sweater back into the closet.
Nothing, I said simply. There’s nothing you can do. It’s over, David.
It’s Carrington, isn’t it? His tone shifted suddenly, accusation replacing pleading. You two seemed awfully comfortable together last night. How long has that been going on? The suggestion was so absurd I actually laughed.
Are you seriously trying to accuse me of having an affair with Mark? We met three days ago when I discovered your infidelity. And you immediately teamed up to ambush us? Planned this whole scenario together? That seems awfully cozy for new acquaintances. We’re united by a common betrayal, I said coldly.
Nothing more. David scoffed. I saw how he looked at you.
And how you took his arm when you left. Basic human decency looks a lot like romance when you’ve forgotten what it’s like, I observed, zipping the now full suitcase. Mark and I are not involved.
But even if we were, which we’re not, you have absolutely no right to question who I spend time with anymore. I lifted the suitcase from the bed. I’ll be staying at the Westside Hotel for now.
My lawyer will contact you about dividing our assets. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to contact me directly. Catherine, David moved to block the doorway.
Don’t do this. Just give us one chance to talk this through. Counseling, maybe.
Something. Move, David. Not until you agree to at least consider.
Move, I repeated, more forcefully. Or I’ll call Mark’s lawyer and add harassment to the divorce filing. The mention of Mark seemed to deflate him.
He stepped aside, watching silently as I made my way downstairs. At the front door, I paused and removed my house key from my keyring, placing it on the entry table with a soft click. For what it’s worth, I said without turning around, I really did love you.
I thought we were building something that would last forever. We still can, he said quietly. I shook my head.
No. We can’t. I opened the door, then added.
I hope she was worth it. I was three steps down the walkway when my phone buzzed with a text message from Mark, how are you holding up? I waited until I was in the car before responding, just retrieved some things from the house. David was there.
Unpleasant but survivable. You? His reply came quickly, similar situation with Elise. Would you be interested in coffee later? Neutral territory to compare notes.
I hesitated, wondering if meeting Mark again was wise. But the thought of sitting alone in a hotel room with nothing but my thoughts for company was worse. Coffee sounds good, I texted back.
The place on 9th street where we first met? Perfect. 3pm? See you then. Riverside coffee was busier than it had been during our first meeting, the afternoon crowd filling most tables with students and remote workers hunched over laptops.
Mark had secured a corner table nonetheless, two steaming mugs already waiting when I arrived. I remembered you take it black, he said, standing as I approached. Good memory.
I settled into the chair across from him, noting that he looked as exhausted as I felt, the circles under his eyes suggesting his night had been as sleepless as mine. Thank you for suggesting this. It’s good to see a friendly face.