Chapter 3 - Nathan’s Story Changed Three TimesNathan arrived at Erin’s house the next morning.
Erin saw him through the window.
“I can tell him to leave.”
Claire shook her head.
“I want answers.”
Sophie was upstairs watching cartoons.
Claire stepped onto the porch.
Nathan looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Same clothes.
He reached for her.
Claire moved back.
“Don’t.”
He lowered his hand.
“Can we talk?”
“We are.”
“Not here.”
“Here is perfect.”
Nathan glanced toward the neighboring houses.
Claire almost smiled.
He cared about appearances now.
“How long?”
Nathan exhaled.
“Claire…”
“How long have you been sleeping with my mother?”
His face tightened.
“It wasn’t—”
“How long?”
“A few months.”
Claire felt physically cold.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Three.”
Claire nodded.
“Three months.”
“Yes.”
“Yesterday you said nothing happened.”
“I said nothing happened yesterday.”
The technicality made her want to hit him.
She didn’t.
“Why was she in the closet?”
“We kissed.”
“Just kissed?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at him for a long time.
Nathan held her gaze.
She almost admired how easily he lied.
“Did you sleep with her in my bed?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
Claire took out her phone.
She opened the doorbell history.
“Fifteen visits.”
Nathan stared.
“You checked?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Some of those were normal.”
“Which ones?”
“She came to see Sophie.”
“Sophie was at school on nine of them.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
Claire continued.
“You told me three months.”
“Yes.”
“The first secret visit was nine months ago.”
His eyes shifted.
One second.
Enough.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Then explain February.”
“She needed help with something.”
“What?”
“Her house.”
“In our bedroom?”
“I never said we went upstairs.”
“Sophie did.”
Nathan looked angry now.
“Stop questioning a six-year-old like she’s an adult witness.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Do not make my daughter responsible for what she saw.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Nathan rubbed his face.
“Fine.”
He looked exhausted.
“It started earlier.”
“How much earlier?”
“Six months.”
“Nine.”
“Claire.”
“Nine months ago she was already coming here when I wasn’t home.”
“We weren’t sleeping together then.”
“So you have slept together.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Claire felt the confirmation like a blade.
“Yes.”
The word was quiet.
Still devastating.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means enough times to stop counting.”
“No.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
Claire laughed.
Nathan’s face hardened.
“Maybe four.”
“Three became four in six seconds.”
“Because you’re pushing me.”
“No.”
Claire shook her head.
“You’re adjusting the lie according to what you think I know.”
Nathan looked away.
She continued.
“When did it actually start?”
“April.”
Claire pulled up another doorbell clip.
“February.”
“Nothing happened then.”
“What happened?”
“She came over.”
“Why secretly?”
“She was lonely.”
“So you comforted my mother without telling your wife.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“When did it become like that?”
Nathan said nothing.
Claire stared at him.
“Did she initiate it?”
His head snapped toward her.
“Yes.”
Too fast.
Claire noticed.
“What did she do?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Nathan hesitated.
“She kissed me.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
Sophie had said kitchen.
That part might actually be true.
“And you stopped her?”
“I should have.”
“That means no.”
“I was shocked.”
“And then?”
“I kissed her back.”
Claire swallowed.
“How romantic.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You kept doing it for months.”
Nathan’s voice rose.
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake is one decision.”
Claire’s voice remained quiet.
“You built a schedule.”
Nathan flinched.
She continued.
“You knew when I worked late. You knew when Sophie had dance class. You knew when Erin and I had dinner.”
“I didn’t plan—”
“Fifteen doorbell recordings.”
He stopped.
Claire asked:
“Did Mom come to the hotel with you in June?”
His face changed.
Tiny.
But unmistakable.
“What hotel?”
Nathan traveled to Indianapolis for a construction conference in June.
Two nights.
Claire had stayed home with Sophie.
“You know what hotel.”
“She wasn’t there.”
Claire hadn’t known anything about Diane being there.
She had guessed.
Nathan had just answered.
Claire nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
His face went pale.
“For what?”
“I didn’t know until you reacted.”
“Claire—”
“She went with you.”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
Claire stared until he broke eye contact.
Then Nathan changed tactics.
“Your mother is not innocent.”
Claire almost laughed.
“I didn’t say she was.”
“She pursued me.”
“And you were helpless?”
“No.”
“She called constantly.”
“You answered.”
“She threatened to tell you we had kissed.”
“So you continued sleeping with her?”
Nathan’s mouth opened.
Claire waited.
He realized what he had admitted.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“You just said sleeping with her.”
Nathan went silent.
The porch seemed suddenly too small.
Claire whispered:
“Get away from me.”
“Please.”
“Go.”
“I love you.”
She looked at him.
The words felt obscene.
“No.”
“I do.”
“You love being married to me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You love our house.”
“Claire—”
“You love Sophie.”
“Yes.”
“You love the life we built.”
“Yes.”
“And apparently you love sleeping with my mother.”
His face twisted.
“It wasn’t about love.”
“That is not helping.”
Nathan grabbed the porch railing.
“I can fix this.”
Claire stared.
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
Exactly.
She turned toward the door.
Nathan spoke again.
“There’s something you need to know about Diane.”
Claire stopped.
He lowered his voice.
“She’s been lying to you about more than me.”
Claire turned.
“What does that mean?”
Nathan looked frightened now.
Not guilty.
Frightened.
“Ask her about your father’s cabin.”
Claire frowned.
“My father’s cabin?”
“Ask her why you haven’t seen the property statements in two years.”
Claire stared at him.
Her father, Thomas Lawson, had died four years earlier.
He had left a lake property in Wisconsin inside a family trust.
Diane managed it until Claire turned thirty-five.
Claire rarely thought about it.
Her mother handled the taxes.
Maintenance.
Everything.
Nathan stepped closer.
“You think the affair is the worst thing your mother has done to you.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“What happened to the cabin?”
Nathan looked toward Erin’s front window.
Then back at Claire.
“Ask Diane.”
“What happened?”
He swallowed.
“She sold it.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“She couldn’t.”
Nathan’s silence told her she could.
Or had found a way.
“When?”
“Last year.”
Claire stared.
“And you knew.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
May you like
Claire finally understood why he had given Diane the storage-unit key.
Whatever Nathan and Diane had been hiding was not confined to a bedroom.
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