MY HUSBAND’S CAR WAS COMPLETELY COVERED IN WOMEN’S LINGERIE WHEN I WALKED OUTSIDE
PART 3
I went inside. I got dressed. I did not engage with the lingerie or the neighbors or Grant’s sputtering. I had calls to make, and I make calls the way I do everything — calmly, in order, from a position of preparation.
First, I called Marcus.
He answered on the first ring, and his voice was raw. “Danielle. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else — I couldn’t be the only one who knew. The car was — I know it was childish, I was up all night, I lost my mind a little. I’m sorry you had to find out that way.”
“Marcus,” I said. “Don’t apologize. You did me a favor. I’d rather know than not know. How long have you known?”
“Three weeks. I hired someone. I have everything — the hotel footage, the texts, all of it. Danielle, I can’t be in business with him. I can’t look at him. But we’re so tangled together, the company, the assets, I don’t even know where to start, I’ve been sick about it—”
“Marcus,” I said. “I know exactly where to start. I wrote your partnership agreement. Six years ago. Remember?”
A pause. “That was — you did that. I forgot that was you.”
