It was logistical. Efficient. Domestic.
It used Marcus’s work schedule and Caleb’s routine as coordinates for betrayal. There was no passion in the sentence, no sweeping emotional justification. Only planning. “Get out,” Marcus said.
Lauren stared at him. “What?”
“Go to your sister’s. Go to a hotel. Go anywhere. I cannot look at you in this house tonight.”
“Marcus, please. I don’t want Caleb to come home and—” “Caleb is not coming home tonight.” She stood. “You can’t decide that without me.”
His expression stopped her.
“I am not keeping him from you,” he said. “I am keeping him away from the first night his parents understand what just happened. Renee has him. He is safe. Tomorrow we can figure out what to tell him.”
Lauren covered her mouth.
Marcus looked at the phone one more time. “And Trevor does not come near this house again. Ever.” “He won’t.”
“You do not get to promise me what he will do. You tell him once, in writing, with me seeing it, that all contact outside required work communication is over. Then you block him personally.” Lauren nodded through tears. Marcus surprised himself by adding, “If you lie now, even about something small, I am done asking questions.”
She wrote the message in front of him.