Chapter 1: The Anniversary Confession

The Lake Michigan wind rattled our bedroom windows, but inside, Michael’s arms were always warm. I always come undone, like every nerve in my body is on fire, whenever my husband and I make love. The way he touches me, the way he looks at me—it’s like I’m the only woman who’s ever existed in his world.

After fifteen years of marriage, Michael still can’t get enough of me. Every morning, he pulls me back into bed when I try to leave. Every evening, his hands find my waist before I’ve even set down my purse.

Everyone says Michael Harrison—Chicago’s elite—is obsessed with his wife. The wives at the country club whisper about it over martinis, half-envious, half-disbelieving. Even if every man in the world had a mistress, Michael Harrison wouldn’t. Or so they say.

He can’t keep his hands off me, day after day. In the kitchen while I’m making coffee. In his office when I drop by Harrison Industries for lunch. In the back of the town car when we’re heading to another charity gala.

But on our fifteenth anniversary, after Michael and I had made love until we collapsed, Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around us and the Chicago skyline glittering through our windows, he nodded toward the entertainment news segment, where a starlet’s face flashed onscreen, cradling a newborn. Without looking at me, he said:

“She gave birth to my son, so today I can’t stay with you...”