I still haven’t slept. Not really. Dozed off on the couch a few times. Couldn’t get back into bed with Steven. I made sure I was out with Whiskey when he got up and went to work. I still can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know how I let this happen. What did I do wrong? It was so hard for me to walk back inside the house.

This is what happened yesterday. I went to see the PI. He told me that Steven has a private credit card I don’t know about. A credit card I’m not supposed to know about. It’s been piling up hotel charges. Hotels in the city. Hotels I’ve never been to. Usually, when Steven goes out on company meals, a credit card for expense accounts is brought along. No one every pays with their own. Steven’s private credit card had numerous restaurants charged on it. Restaurants I’ve always wanted to go to. Restaurants I’ve never been to. The PI called Steven “sloppy.” Not the modifier I’d use. Steven’s phone records show he’s been dialing a number that’s not work. That all those times while we were in Nantucket, when he had to go to town and get service for his cell, he wasn’t calling work. He was calling another number. Residential.

When the PI told me the number, I was relieved at first. I know that number! It’s Laura’s! I said with a smile, “Of course, it’s my best friend, Laura’s.” So that’s definitely not who he’s been secretly calling. The PI said he saw Steven and a brunette, about 5’7, holding hands, enter a hotel at around 7PM. He then said, Steven and the girl exited the hotel about two hours later. He showed me some photos.

I looked at the pictures: oh, there’s Steven and Laura. Then it hit me: there’s Steven and Laura. Steven and Laura are having an affair. The two people closest to me in the world. The two people I trusted most. Laura, the one woman I’d never be jealous of if she spent time with Steven without me. Because you can always trust your best friend. And that's why they were able to do it. Because they knew I trusted them. That's why Laura hasn't been so available lately. It never occurred to me that she was fucking my husband. Why would it? Best friends don’t fuck your husband, right? Not my best friend. My bridesmaid (she would’ve been maid-of-honor if I didn’t have a sister!). Not my confidant.