Ryan looked sick. "I wasn't thinking." "That's the problem with that sentence. You keep using it as if not thinking is somehow less cruel than deciding." He opened his mouth and closed it.
Lily whispered, "It only happened once that night." Ava looked at her. "That night." Lily realized the mistake. The room went silent again.
Ava's voice became frighteningly calm. "How many nights?" Ryan immediately said, "Not many." Ava turned toward him. "You should stop answering questions with phrases that make me hate you more."
He swallowed. Lily wiped her nose with her napkin. "Four." Ava's eyebrows lifted. "Four times?"
Lily shook her head. "Four nights." The distinction landed like another insult. "Four nights," Ava repeated. "Between May and July," Lily said.
"Then we stopped." Ava looked at Ryan. "Did you?" He nodded too fast. "Yes."
"Completely?" Ryan hesitated. Ava felt nausea rise in her throat. "What does completely mean to you?" "We didn't sleep together after July."
"That is not what I asked." Lily whispered, "We still talked." Ava closed her eyes. There it was: the second affair, the one that lived in messages and shared secrets, in looks across rooms, in silences Ava had mistaken for distance. She understood suddenly why Lily knew details about Ryan's work projects Ava did not remember telling her.
Why Ryan had once mentioned Lily's supervisor by name even though Ava could not recall discussing him. Why both of them had started carrying their phones everywhere. "Show me your phone," Ava said. Ryan stared at her. "Now."
"Ava, I deleted the messages." Ava laughed again, softer this time. "Of course you did." "It was because I was ashamed." "No.
You delete evidence because you don't want to get caught. Shame is what you feel after someone finds out." Ryan flinched as though she had struck him. Ava looked at Lily. "Did you delete yours too?"
Lily nodded. "How coordinated." "We weren't coordinating," Lily said. "We were trying to stop." "You were trying to stop being caught."
"No." "Then why didn't either of you tell me?" Lily had no answer. Ava pushed away from the table and began walking without knowing where she intended to go. She crossed to the sideboard, stopped beside the framed wedding photograph displayed there, and stared at the picture.
Ryan in a dark tuxedo. Ava in ivory silk. Lily beside her in the bridesmaid dress they had spent three weekends choosing because Lily complained every shade of pink made her look sunburned. Diane stood on Ava's other side in the photograph, smiling with one hand resting lightly at her daughter's waist. A family.
Ava picked up the frame. Ryan stood. "Ava." "Sit down." He did.