I pulled it out slowly.
I looked down at my hand.
The second I realized what I was holding, my heart started racing.
I pulled it out slowly.
I glanced over at Ian, still sleeping peacefully.
I grabbed my phone off the dresser, tightened the robe, and crossed the carpet barefoot. The door clicked shut behind me, softer than a whisper.
The hallway carpet felt cool under my bare feet. I leaned against the wall beside our suite door and opened my palm.
A folded receipt. A tiny brass key on a red ribbon. And tucked inside the fold, a small square of cream stationery covered in loopy cursive that wasn’t mine.
The door clicked shut behind me.
“Thank you for keeping this between us. She can never know until the right moment. R.”
I read it several times. My mouth went dry.
Ian and I didn’t do this. We didn’t take notes from strangers, keys we hadn’t discussed, or the word “she” referring to me while I slept right next to him.
I unfolded the receipt with fingers that didn’t feel like mine.
I read it several times.
Bellamy & Sons Jewelers. An address across town. A date three weeks before the wedding. The dollar amount made my knees weak.
I fumbled my phone out of the robe’s pocket and called Marisol.
She picked up on the second ring, groggy.
“Sharon? It’s like eight in the morning. Please tell me you’re calling to brag about marital sex?”
“I found something in Ian’s tux.”
I fumbled my phone out of the robe’s pocket.
My friend’s grogginess vanished.
“Define something.”
“A key. A note I think is from a woman. Signed R. And a jeweler’s receipt from three weeks ago for an amount that could buy a used car.”
There was a long, careful pause.
“Okay. Breathe, friend. What does the note say exactly?”
I read it to her, whispering, my back sliding down the wallpaper until I was crouched in the stairwell doorway.
“Define something.”
“Marisol, he had this in his pocket on our wedding night. While he was saying his vows.”
“Stop. Stop spiraling. You don’t know what this is yet.”
“I have a pretty good guess.”
“You have a bad guess,” my friend said. “You have a scared guess. There’s a difference.”
I pressed the key to my lips. The ribbon was velvety, worn soft, as if someone had handled it a lot.
“Stop spiraling.”
“Who do we know whose name starts with R?” Marisol asked.
“Nobody. Not in his family. Not in mine. His mom is Beth. His sister is Kayla. I don’t know a single R.”
“An ex?”
“He hasn’t spoken to an ex in years, Marisol; you know that.”
“Okay, okay. What about the receipt? What did he buy?”
“I don’t know a single R.”
“It doesn’t say what. Just the amount and the store name. Bellamy & Sons.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Me neither. That’s the point. Ian’s never mentioned that place. Not once. And we tell each other when we buy socks.”
I heard her sit up as the sheets rustled.
“Sharon. Listen to me. I know your brain. I know it’s running through every bad movie you’ve ever seen right now. Do not go back in there and shake him awake.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
I laughed, and it came out forced.
“Okay, I was going to.”
“Ask him,” Marisol advised. “Calmly. Coffee first. Do not accuse. Watch his face. Ian is a terrible liar. You know this. He couldn’t even keep the honeymoon destination a secret for two weeks.”
“Which is why this is so weird. He can’t keep secrets. And yet here we are.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“It means either it’s something big and awful, or it’s something big and not awful. Both are possible.”
I stared at the key. It was too small for a door. Too specifically shaped for a lock I couldn’t picture. A jewelry box, maybe.
“Marisol, what if I just married a man I don’t actually know?”
