Across the room, Christopher watched us, frozen.
“Nathaniel!” I called, waving him over. “Come join us. We were admiring Penelope’s skirt. Chris, you too!”
The four of us stood in a circle. Penelope’s hand trembled on her glass. Nathaniel looked confused. Christopher looked wrecked.
“I loved that skirt,” I said softly. “Thought it was meant for me. But now I see it was meant for someone else.”
Christopher cleared his throat. “I gave it to Pen. As a bonus. For her excellent work.”
“How thoughtful,” I replied, voice even. “Was that for her performance at work… or for her appearances in our bedroom during lunch breaks?”
Silence.
Nathaniel stepped away from Penelope. Her mouth parted, eyes wide with shame.
“Don’t involve Luke,” Christopher muttered.
“Too late,” I said. “He already was.”
Guests had begun to notice. The room fell still. Conversations hushed. The truth clung to the air like smoke.
