Then she said carefully, “Read me the note.”
I did.
“Marisol, he carried this in his tuxedo during our wedding. He had it with him while he was saying his vows to me.”
“Okay. Don’t panic yet.”
“I think I have a pretty obvious reason to panic.”
“No,” she replied. “You have a frightening theory. That isn’t the same thing as knowing what happened.”
I stared at the little brass key.
“Who do we know whose name begins with R?”
“Nobody,” I said. “Not his mother. Not his sister. Not anyone in my family.”
“What about an ex?”
“He hasn’t spoken to any of his exes in years.”
“And the receipt? Does it say what he bought?”
“No. Just Bellamy & Sons and the amount.”
Marisol sighed.
“Sharon, listen carefully. I know how your brain works. Do not run into that room and accuse him of cheating.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You absolutely were.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
“Okay. Maybe I was.”
“Ask him. Calmly. And watch his reaction. Ian is terrible at lying. He couldn’t even keep your honeymoon destination secret.”
“That’s exactly what scares me. He’s terrible at secrets, yet somehow he’s been hiding this.”
“Then there are two possibilities,” she said. “It’s something huge and terrible, or something huge and completely innocent.”
I looked down at the key again.
It was too small to belong to an ordinary door.
Maybe a jewelry box.
Maybe a locker.
Maybe something worse.
“What if I just married someone I don’t actually know?”
“You’ve been with Ian for four years.”
“People hide things for years.”
“Not him.”
I wanted desperately to believe her.
“I can’t sit on a ten-hour flight to Greece wondering about this.”
“Then ask him now. Just remember—ask. Don’t accuse.”
“Ask, don’t accuse.”
“And call me afterward.”
“I will.”
I stayed in the hallway for another minute, staring at my wedding ring beneath the harsh hotel lighting.
Then I stood and went back inside.
Ian was awake.
He sat against the pillows with his hair sticking in every direction.
“There you are,” he said. “I woke up and you were gone.”
“I went to get ice.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“You went to the ice machine without the ice bucket?”
“I forgot it.”
“Right.”
I gave a nervous laugh.
The key and note were still hidden inside my robe pocket.
Fortunately, room service arrived moments later.
We sat across from each other drinking coffee and eating breakfast.
I tried to behave normally.
Ian spread butter over a croissant as though everything in our universe was perfectly fine.
“So,” I said casually, “did you empty your tuxedo pockets last night?”
“Yeah.”
“All of them?”
He looked at me.
“Yes. Why?”
“You’re sure?”
“Sharon, I checked. Vow book. Hotel key. That was it.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s strange.”
Ian paused.
“Why?”
“Because I found something else.”
His chewing stopped.
I pulled out the receipt.
“Something from Bellamy & Sons.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
One blink.
A faint tension around his mouth.
But I knew him well enough to notice.
Then I placed the brass key and handwritten note on the table.
Ian went completely still.
He stared at the objects.
Then at me.
Finally, he said quietly, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Sharon, I need you to trust me for another six hours.”
I almost laughed.
“Six hours?”
“Until we reach the airport.”
“Ian, we’ve been married for less than a day.”
“I know.”
“We share passwords. We share our bank accounts. We even share streaming accounts. And now you’re asking me to ignore a secret note from another woman for six hours?”
See more on the next page
