Proof

Hell, she could be pregnant right now. Was it his?

How could she have woken up beside him every morning and lain in his arms every night without guilt? How could she have lied every single moment without guilt? Her smiles. Her tender words. Her kisses. All lies. How?

And, most importantly, why? He had given her everything he knew to give. Loved her more than he had loved every woman who had come before her, combined. He had trusted her without reservation. Been proud of her. Encouraged her every venture. Given her everything she had asked for. Given her things even without her needing to ask. He had never neglected her. He had done better than his best. Why, then? Why?

Jared was jerked from his thoughts when Jonathan moved. Jonathan got up and went to pour whiskey. He brought the glass to Jared and wordlessly handed it to him.

Jared took it, knocking the amber liquid back in one swallow.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said quietly.

"I know," Jared replied in the same tone.

He lapsed into silence again, the same questions running through his mind. The only thing he was thankful for was that it was Jonathan who had discovered Raquel's affair and not anybody else. Had it been anybody else who had handed him his own wife's cum-stained underwear, it would have been difficult for him to overcome the sheer humiliation.

Since it had to be somebody, he was glad it was his brother.

But now, what the hell was he supposed to do? How should he proceed?

Jared sat thinking as the clock tolled. Jonathan didn't interrupt his thought process. When one of Jonathan's assistants came in, Jonathan waved her away and told her they weren't to be disturbed until they left the office.

The two men continued to sit silently, until Jared spoke at last. "I want your help."

"Anything."

"It's not a lot. I just need you to corroborate a story to Raquel if she asks you about it. I'll go away for a few days. A week, maybe. I need to clear my head before I say anything to her. I'll stay at my London apartment. I'll tell her that Leo called me to head office to represent us both at an in-person meeting. You can handle things here for a week?"

"You know I can."

"If Raquel asks you for information, just confirm the story about Leo. You don't have to add anything else. I'll have Pete get me on the next flight out. As soon as he gets back to me, I'll head home and pack a bag." Jared got up, only pausing to say, "Thanks."

Jonathan nodded grimly. It was thanks he clearly had never wanted to have to receive.

Before Jared left Jonathan's office, he took the freezer bag containing Raquel's cum-stained underwear.

*****

Pete booked the flight. It was from Syracuse to Heathrow and was departing in four hours. Jared cleared his desk, left instructions with Pete about his meetings for the rest of the week, and left KBC. The driver took him straight home.

He found, when he arrived at a little after 2 p.m., that Raquel wasn't home. She ought to have been. As far as he knew, there was nothing to take her out of the house that day. That she wasn't home when she should have been, only made the leaden weight heavier.

Jared went to their bedroom and had finished packing in minutes. He didn't need much; the London apartment had everything.

Before he left, he wrote a note to Raquel only stating that there was a summons from Leo, that he'd needed to get the first flight out to London and that he would call her when he reached the apartment.

He left the note on the bed where she was sure to see it. With his carry-on, he got back in the car and was on his way to Syracuse. There would be just enough time for the driver to get him to the airport and double back to pick Travis up from school. Speaking of which...

Jared leaned forward to speak to the driver. "When you pick Travis up from school, tell him I've had to go away on business. Let him know I'll call and speak with him once I'm in London."

"Yes, Mr. Kendrick."

Jared sat back and switched his cell phone off.

*****

The plane touched down in Heathrow early the next morning. An hour later, he was behind the wheel of a hired Benz, driving himself to the apartment. The flight from Syracuse had been to Newark, where he'd waited two hours in the business lounge before boarding an overnight connecting flight. He hadn't slept during the night, yet he was alert. Surprisingly alert. Apparently, having a faithless wife did that to a guy.

His hands tightened on the wheel. That bitter anger simmered. Simmered. Simmered. Simmered. Underneath it, deep within himself, he kept asking: Why? Why, Raquel, why?

It had been 11 hours since he'd left Syracuse and he was no closer to answering that question than when he'd been in Jonathan's office. His cell phone was still switched off. He'd long ago taken off his suit jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbows. His carry-on was in the backseat.

It was 20 miles from the airport to the apartment, but since London weekday traffic was London weekday traffic even at the ass-crack of dawn, it took him nearly two hours to cover those 20 miles.

Jared was first identified at the gate. At the apartment building itself, he went through a door to the atrium before going through to the private lobby with his keycard. The watchman behind the lobby desk did a double take when he saw Jared. Then he grinned.

Without seeming to notice Jared's foul mood, the watchman chatted to him, repeatedly expressing surprise at seeing him without forewarning and asking him how his flight had been. He capped it all off with: "And what about the missus? She didn't come with you?"

"Do you see her with me?" was the retort that came to Jared's tongue. He swallowed it back in time, leaving it unsaid. It was Raquel who should—and damn well would—feel his wrath. It was Raquel, not this obtuse watchman. Instead of the retort, Jared gave a curt, "No."

The watchman nodded. "Oh, well. Too bad. Maybe next time, eh?" He smiled with cheerful obliviousness. "And your boy? Travis. I wish you'd brought him along. He's not home as often as he ought to. You know, if you keep him over there too much, he'll soon have an American accent." The watchman shuddered at the very idea. "He'll never be able to talk proper. As he's supposed to. He's going to be drawling and slurring all his words like there's no tomorrow."

"He'll be here for the Christmas holidays," Jared replied, deciding not to dash the watchman's dreams by telling him that Travis's accent was already Americanized. Either way, his quota of patience had now run out. He walked past the watchman. As he went to the penthouse elevator he said over his shoulder, "Nobody here knows that I'm not in the States. But in case word gets out and I do have a visitor, remember to call up before you send them up. Even if it's my uncle, make sure to call up first."

"Yes, sir."

He didn't keep staff at the apartment while he wasn't living in it, so Jared stepped off the elevator into an empty penthouse. In the living room, he opened the blinds. The rising sun filled the room, bringing its perfect décor to life. The window gave the onlooker a panoramic view of the City of London.

But Jared, standing at that window with his suit jacket over his shoulder and his carry-on in his hand, saw nothing to admire. He only saw his future. His immediate future would be bitter and stressful. His distant future would be lonely.

Because there was only one road for him to go down. Divorce.

A muscle worked in his jaw. There was no other way. This couldn't be salvaged. He loved her. He loved her with everything in him and probably always would. But it couldn't be salvaged. He couldn't touch a wife who had given herself to another man. A wife who had lied to his face and played him for a fool. A wife who no longer belonged to him alone. Perhaps she never had.

He would make her feel pain. If he got her to feel even a fraction of the pain he was feeling now, he'd congratulate himself on a job well done. He would show her no more mercy than he had shown Travis's birth mother twelve years ago.

Jared went from the living room to the master bedroom. He unpacked what little luggage he'd brought. A half hour later, he was showered, shaved and casually dressed. He made coffee. Then, sitting at the kitchen table with the steaming cup, he ordered groceries to be delivered that evening and called the front desk to let the watchman know to send the delivery driver up as soon as he arrived. After that, he worked until tiredness and jet lag finally caught up with him.

He returned to the bedroom and slept.

The first thing he did when he awoke was to look at the clock; 5:53 p.m. It would be 12:23 on the East Coast.

He sat up, reached for his cell phone, switched it on and called Raquel.

She answered it on the second ring. "Jared!" she said immediately. She spoke hastily. "I'm so glad you've called. Is everything alright? I've been trying to reach you since I got home yesterday but it kept saying you were unavailable."

Jared took a few seconds to compose himself. To make sure he kept the anger out of his voice. He used the neutral tone reserved for business. "Didn't you see the note I left you on the bed?"

"Well, yes, but I was so surprised. I had no idea you were rushing off to London. Travis had no idea either. We kept saying how surprised we were."

"How is he?"

"He's fine. He's at school now. I dropped him off myself since the driver wasn't going to be taking you to the office today. I'm going to pick him up after his basketball game. I decided to give the driver the day off."

"And you?" Jared asked in that same neutral tone. "Where are you now?"

"In the house, of course. Where else would I be? What a strange question to ask."

"Where were you when I stopped by the house before I boarded my flight yesterday?"

"There was dry-cleaning I wanted picked up, and I decided to go myself instead of sending the maid." She paused. A little pause that Jared didn't fail to notice. The pause that came right after a lie. "Darling," she continued. "What's the matter with you? I asked you last weekend if something was wrong with work and you said no. But I know you were avoiding me all weekend, and now, you've rushed off to London on your uncle's orders. What's going on? Has KBC lost money?"

"Nothing like that. There was an impromptu meeting at global headquarters. Leo needed either me or Jonathan to be there. I volunteered and left on the next flight out."

"You're at the London apartment now?"

"Yes."

"When are you coming home?"

"A week, give or take a day."

"I wish I could have known beforehand."

"You would have, if you'd been home when I was leaving."

"I was picking up the dry-cleaning."

"So you said."

There was a long pause. "What do you mean by that? What are you implying?"

"Forget it for now. We'll talk when I get back."

Another long pause. "I don't understand. I can tell you're upset with me but I don't know why." Raquel's voice broke. It sounded almost childlike. "I haven't done anything wrong. Why are you angry with me? Why did you refuse to touch me all weekend? Why are you in London? I know it's not about work. I want to know what's going on. Jared, tell me what's going on."

If it hadn't been for the proof—the cum-stained underwear now in his carry-on—Jared knew he'd have fallen for her tearful-and-confused act. He would have believed absolutely. And even knowing it was an act, it still tugged at something in him. Because he loved her.

It was a wasted love, now that respect and faith were gone. Jared sat on the bed as the setting sun fell over him. Faith was gone. "We'll talk when I get back in a week. Until then, there's no point in you crying. I'll call Travis later this evening."

"Jared—"

He interrupted what he knew was going to be another tearful demand for information. "We'll talk everything over when I get back. For now, what I want to ask is that you arrange for Travis to sleep at my parents' place next Tuesday night. Can you arrange that for me?"

"Yes, but—"

"Arrange it and we'll talk as soon as I get back."

Raquel took another long pause. "Alright," she said in a firmer voice. "But you'd better be prepared to talk then. You had better make sure you have a very, very good reason for how you're treating me right now." She sniffed. "I'll see you in a week, then. Bye."

"Bye," he echoed. He hung up first.

The groceries he ordered arrived an hour later, enabling him to stock the fridge and have a dinner of bourbon and scrambled eggs. He called Travis when it was 9p.m. in New York, and repeated the same story about work having called him away. If Travis didn't believe it, he didn't voice his doubts or question it too much.

They stayed on the phone an hour. The conversation, like most of their talks, was easy, flowing and often punctuated by laughter. Talking to his son improved Jared's mood in a way that nothing else could have at that moment. Travis asked several questions about London, wished he could have skipped school to come along, then proceeded to give Jared a play-by-play of his basketball game that afternoon.

More than once during the conversation, Jared had the thought that when the separation and eventual divorce happened, this was the way things would be again. Just the two of them. No Raquel. He'd be alone and with a failed marriage under his belt. The one thing he had sworn to himself wouldn't happen. He was about to fail in the aspect of life where he had most hoped to succeed.

Travis was still describing the basketball game in minute detail. "...and then Larry was trying to do a crossover dribble, but he couldn't get past the defender and so he got the ball because Larry was so slow. Más lento que el caballo del malo."

Jared froze as soon as Travis spoke Spanish. "What?"

"It's something people in Spain say when someone's super slow. It means 'slower than the villain's horse'."

A pang went through Jared. "Raquel taught you that."

"Yup. And it kind of makes sense because in all the old Western movies, they always make the bad guy's horse slower than the good guy's horse."

Another pang. He hadn't known that Raquel was teaching Travis nuggets of Spanish. At any other time, it would have been welcome news. But right now, it was a stark reminder that the divorce would impact Travis as much as it would impact him. Despite this, Jared kept his tone light and got off the subject. "True. And what was the final game score?"

Travis cheerfully continued telling him about the game. Before they hung up, Jared reminded his son: "I'll be back in about a week. Behave yourself. Listen to Raquel when she tells you to do something, and don't try to charm favors out of her."

Travis laughed at the last part. "Okay, okay. Promise."

The boy's laughter made Jared smile, but the smile faded soon after they hung up. Jared sat staring at the kitchen wall, the silence of the empty penthouse apartment around him.

He reached for the whiskey bottle again.

*****

His excuse for going to London turned out not to be entirely untrue. He saw and had meetings with Leo several times that week, because he worked at the global office from Wednesday to Friday.

Over the weekend, he went to Berkshire and spent the time with the rest of the family. Relatives he hadn't seen in many months. They were surprised at his sudden decision to come over, but he parried their questions. On Monday he worked from the London apartment. Over the week, he made his decisions about Raquel and his future.

By Tuesday afternoon local time, all his plans were made and he left London. He drove the hired car back to Heathrow and boarded a flight back. He was at Syracuse by sunset the same day, and the driver was already waiting for him.

Jared had no sense of homecoming as the Benz passed the gates of home and underneath the cottonwood avenue up to the house on rising ground. There were lights on in the house, glowing warm out to the dusk. When the car had stopped, he took his carry-on and let himself into the house from the east door. He followed the light from there to the family room, where he knew she was waiting for him.

Raquel sat in the armchair by the coffee table. She was wearing a transparent nightgown. An equally transparent robe was tossed over her shoulders. Her hair was done and she was wearing jewelry. An attempt to seduce him? She looked so utterly fuckable that the attempt would have worked, if it weren't for the disgust that threatened to choke him every time a mental image of her and her lover flashed through his mind. Had she seduced her lover in the same way she was trying to seduce him now? Or was it her lover who'd done the seducing?

They watched each other as he walked into the room. "Welcome home," she said. Her voice was restrained. Her eyes were guarded.

"Thanks. Is Travis with my parents?"

"Yes." She was studying him. "Aren't you going to come kiss me?"

Jared turned the lock after he closed the door behind him. As he went farther into the room, he unzipped his carry-on bag. He took the freezer bag containing the cum-stained underwear and tossed it on the coffee table in front of her. It landed with a rustle of plastic.

Raquel looked down at it. Jared was watching her face. At first there was confusion, and then she went pale. Her lips parted. Her clasped fingers tightened until her knuckles were white. Then she looked up at him, her eyes wide with horror.

"Explain that," Jared said quietly.

Rather than explain, she asked him, "How did you get it?" Her voice was thin with shock.

"Explain it," he said again. "And don't lie to me."

Her eyes were still wide. "It...it was Jonathan, wasn't it? It was Jonathan who gave this to you."

"Are you denying it's yours?"

"I know it's mine." Raquel put her face in her hands. "Madre mía," she breathed, her voice cracking. "It's mine. Oh, God." She sat like that for a full minute. When she raised her face to his, she seemed to have regained some control of herself. She took a deep breath. "You want me to explain the underwear. I can't. I can't give you an explanation that will satisfy you. Especially as you already seem to have made your mind up in the way you like."

Pure rage washed over Jared. He began to step towards her, but stopped himself. He shouldn't get too close to her while he was this this angry. "The way I like? You think I like anything about this situation? But what other conclusion is there? Give me an alternative."

She didn't give him an alternative. She didn't say a word.

"Who is he? Whose cum is it on your fucking underwear?"

The words made her wince. She turned paler. Even so, she had fight in her. She squared her chin and said tartly, "Couldn't Jonathan tell you that, too? It seems to me that he knows everything else."

The second wave of rage hit Jared. "Raquel, this isn't the time to test me. Who is he? One of your artist friends?"

She didn't answer.

"You can't explain away the underwear. I'd thought as much. What I now want to know is his identity. Is he the same man who was with you at the Dragonfly? The one you were kissing in the lobby."

She still didn't answer.

"How long have you been letting the bastard fuck you?"

Still no answer. The third wave of rage hit. He would make her talk. Jared advanced on her before he could think about it.

It was the anxiety that leapt into her eyes that made him stop mid-step. Not only did he stop, he retraced the two steps he had already taken. "I'll ask you one more time. Who is he, Raquel?"

Raquel shook her head. Once. Twice. Thrice. Her eyes grew wet and shiny. Two fat tears brimmed over and tracked down her cheeks. She kept shaking her head. Her breath hitched. "He's nobody. Nobody. I love only you."

"You love only me, yet his cum is on your underwear and you're protecting his identity."