At first I told myself maybe she worked with him or something. My husband manages inventory for a restaurant supply warehouse and people call him at weird hours constantly. Plus our daughter is seven and thinks every crossover SUV looks identical anyway.
But after she mentioned the coffee thing I started paying attention.
The silver SUV never pulled fully into the driveway. Just slowed near the curb around 6:15 most mornings while my husband stood outside pretending to reorganize tools in the truck bed or tie down absolutely nothing.
Always before sunrise.
Always before I got up.
Friday I stayed awake on purpose after his alarm went off. I heard the garage open maybe ten minutes later but his truck never started. Just low voices outside and one quick laugh.
By the time I looked through the blinds the SUV was already pulling away.
My husband came back inside carrying a coffee cup from the gas station on Route 8. The one almost twenty minutes from our neighborhood.
I asked where he got it.
He answered too fast. Said somebody brought donuts into work yesterday and he forgot the extra coffee in the fridge there.
Then he kissed my forehead like I was being unreasonable for even asking.
Later that afternoon I went into the garage looking for packing tape because my son’s science project was falling apart again. That’s when I noticed my husband had cleared out the metal storage cabinet near his workbench.
Not cleaned.
Cleared out.
The shelves were empty except for a folded gray sweatshirt and a receipt from a motel off Interstate 76 dated three weeks earlier.
Two guests.
One room.
Check-in time: 5:42 a.m.
I probably still would’ve convinced myself it meant nothing honestly because people do weird stuff and marriages get paranoid sometimes.
But written across the top of the receipt in my husband’s handwriting was:
“Use back entrance next time. Neighbor across street awake early.”