I drove straight to the yoga studio.
The morning class must have just ended. Women were coming through the door with rolled mats under their arms when I pushed past them. Ethan was at the front of the room, wiping down a mat.
He looked up. “Sam?”
“Where is she?”
He straightened. “What?”
“Claire. Where is she?”
“She’s my friend.”
Something changed in his face. “She’s not here.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
I stepped closer. “How long?”
His brow tightened. “How long what?”
“How long have you been sleeping with my wife?”
“She’s losing her mind.”
For a second, he just stared at me.
Then he shook his head. “I have never touched Claire. Not once.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious. She’s my friend. That’s it.”
I remembered the hushed calls she’d made from the laundry room.
Suddenly, I knew who had been on the other end.
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