Rachel nodded slowly. “Keep going.” David pressed his palms together. “She came upstairs when I was getting her a shirt.”
“And?” “We kissed again.” “And? He looked away.”
Rachel’s voice broke for the first time. “And?” “We stopped.” Rachel stared at him.
“Before sex?” “Yes.” The answer should have relieved her. It did not.
Because she no longer trusted the scale. “Why did you stop?” David rubbed his face.
“Because Sophie came into the hallway.” Rachel’s stomach dropped. “What?” “She called for me.”
Rachel gripped the back of the dining chair. “You stopped because our daughter interrupted you.” “No. I mean—we were already stopping.”
Rachel laughed through sudden tears. “Of course you were.” David stood again.
“I know how this sounds.” “No, you know how it is.” “I didn’t sleep with her.” “You brought her into our bedroom.”
“I know.” “Our daughter saw her in our bedroom.” “I know.” “She found her dress.”
“I know.” “And you were going to let me come home Sunday and never say a word.” David had nothing.
That was the first complete truth. Rachel walked into the kitchen and leaned over the sink. She did not want to cry in front of him.
She did anyway. Not dramatically. Just silently, shoulders shaking, both hands braced against the counter. David took one step toward her.