I need you to understand who Vanessa Cole is.

Three years ago, right after the wedding, Nathan came home one night and sat at the kitchen counter without taking his coat off. Just sat there. I put a glass of water in front of him and waited.

"I saw her today," he said. "Vanessa Cole. His daughter."

I knew immediately what he meant.

Nathan's parents died when he was seventeen. His dad went in for a routine surgery and never came out — the surgeon was drunk. Actually drunk. On duty. His mom couldn't survive the grief. She took pills two weeks later. Left a note. Nathan found her.

The surgeon lost his license. Got five years. Nathan got nothing except a foster placement and a box of his parents' things.

Vanessa's father.

"She's been my secretary for six months," Nathan said. He pressed his hands against his eyes. "I didn't know. I just found out."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked on the last word. Just barely. "For one second today, Mia. One second. I looked at her and I thought about putting my hands around her—" He stopped. Shook his head hard. "I need you to know I didn't. And I won't. But I thought it."

I held his face in my hands.

"I know," I said. "I know."

He transferred her to another department eventually. I asked him once why he didn't just fire her.

"Because letting her existence control my decisions means she wins," he said. "I'd rather have her where I can see her."

I thought that was a strange answer. I let it go.

Now she's back on his floor, pouring his tea.

And the way she set that cup down — careful, practiced, like she'd done it a thousand times — is making my stomach turn.

* * *

A week later I buy muffins.

Caramel. From that new bakery on 5th that has a two-hour line on weekends but is empty on Tuesday afternoons. I get six. I figure I'll bring them up, surprise him, maybe have lunch in his office.

I use the executive elevator. My name's still on the building. Nobody stops me.

I knock on his office door.

"I said no interruptions. Get out."

I've never heard that voice before. Not from him. Not directed at anyone.

"Nathan. It's me."

A pause. Then the door clicks open — he hit the remote from across the room.

The curtains are drawn. The room is dim. He's backlit, standing behind his desk, and I can't read his face.

I stop a few feet inside the door.

"You okay?" I ask.

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Mia Bear. What are you doing here?"

"Brought you something." I hold up the bag. "You haven't been eating."

"I'm fine." He moves toward me. "Just tired. Big week."

I feed him a piece of muffin like I've done a hundred times. He chews. His jaw is tight.

"It's good," he says. Like he's reading off a card.

"Who were you on with?" I nod toward his laptop. "Didn't know you had a call."

"Finished up just now." He takes the bag from me and puts it on the desk. "You should head home, babe. I'll be late. Don't wait up."

I look at him for a second too long.

"Okay," I say. "Don't overdo it."

I turn around. Walk out.

I'm twenty feet down the hall, waiting for the elevator, when I hear his office door open again.

I don't turn around. I look at the elevator button.

Footsteps. A woman's heels. Click click click.

I look.

Vanessa.

Her hair has a strand loose. Her blouse is slightly — just slightly — untucked on one side. She walks past me without making eye contact and disappears around the corner.

The elevator opens.

I stand there.

I don't get in.

I think about his office. His desk. How big it is. How dim the room was. How he told me to go home.

The elevator closes again without me.

* * *

I go home. I pick up Lucky. I get in the car.

Lucky is our golden retriever. He's three. He's spoiled and he knows it. He sits in the passenger seat like a person and sticks his nose out the crack in the window and I love him more than most humans.

I drive. I don't know where I'm going. I end up parked outside the office. I've been sitting here for forty minutes and I feel genuinely crazy.

Then I see her.

Vanessa. Coming out of the parking garage in a white SUV.

I follow her. I know. I know how this looks. But my hands are already doing it and my brain hasn't caught up yet.

She lives about ten minutes away. Nice neighborhood. Quiet streets. Big trees. I park half a block back and watch her go inside.

I sit there.

Lucky looks at me.

"Don't judge me," I tell him.

Twenty minutes pass. Nothing happens. See? Nothing. I'm losing my mind for nothing.

I'm about to leave when Nathan's car turns onto the street.

His black Mercedes. His plates.

I press my hand flat against my sternum. My heart is going insane underneath it.

He parks in front of her house.

I call him.

He picks up on the second ring. "Mia Bear. What's up?"

"Hey." My voice sounds normal. I don't know how. "Where are you?"

"Just leaving the office. Quick stop at Vanessa's — she's got a contract file I need for the Tokyo meeting tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Yeah." I watch his car, parked right there, fifteen feet in front of me. "Sure. Don't be too long."

"Twenty minutes max. Love you."

He hangs up.

He stays thirty-five minutes. When his car finally pulls out, I'm still sitting there with my hand on my chest.

Five minutes later, Vanessa comes out in workout clothes. She stretches on her front step, puts her earbuds in, and goes for a jog.

Okay. Fine. He picked up a file. She went for a run. Normal things. Normal Tuesday evening.

I'm literally about to leave.

And then Lucky launches himself out the cracked window.

"LUCKY—"

He bolts across the street, hits Vanessa's lawn, squats, and pees.

I'm out of the car in two seconds, mortified, reaching for him. Then I stop.

Lucky pees at home. He pees at our place in the Hamptons. He pees in Nathan's parking spot at the office sometimes, which the parking attendant has given up trying to stop.

Our dog trainer once told us, laughing, that Lucky seems to think he and Nathan are competing for territory. That he marks everywhere Nathan has claimed.

Lucky is peeing on Vanessa Cole's front lawn.

The world goes very quiet.

I pick him up. I carry him to the car.

I sit there for a long time.

Then, slowly, I walk back across the street. Up the front path. To her door.

She has a keypad lock.

I don't know why I try it.

I type in Lucky's birthday. Same code I use for my own front door.

The light turns green.

The door opens.

* * *