He narrows his eyes. “No.”

“I saw it.”

He sits up fully in bed this time. I wasn’t in the mood before, but it’s safe to say that he isn’t either anymore. “What are you saying, Millie?”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

“Are you saying our son tried to drown Suzette? Is that what you think?”

“No,” I say, even though that is kind of what I was thinking. Enzo didn’t see the way Nico was glaring at her before they went into the water.

“Well, good. Because he did not.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!” He shoots me an exasperated look. “I saw him. He wasn’t near her. Like I said, it was seaweed or other kids.”

But he’s lying to me. I’m sure of it. Because I saw Nico next to her myself not long before she went under. He’s just telling me what he thinks I need to hear. But what I want is the truth.

“Nico is a good kid,” Enzo says stubbornly. “You should not worry so much. Is bad for your blood pressure.”

Except I can’t help but think that right now I have much worse problems than my blood pressure.

FORTY

I wake up at three in the morning covered in sweat.

I was having some sort of bad dream. In the dream, I was floating in the ocean. And all of a sudden, a hand closed around my ankle and started pulling me down into the water. I was screaming, trying to get free, but the hand kept pulling and pulling, and sure enough, I started going under.

That’s when I woke up.

It’s been a week since our attempted trip to the beach went sour, and it feels like things haven’t been the same since that day, although I can’t put my finger on why. Enzo has been acting distant all week, but it’s not something I could call him on because he isn’t really doing anything wrong. He just seems oddly distracted.

The sky is clear tonight, and moonlight is streaming in through the windows of the bedroom. I roll my head to the side, expecting to see my husband sound asleep beside me. But that’s not what I see.

Enzo isn’t sleeping soundly. In fact, he’s not in the bed at all.

What the hell?

I sit up straight in bed, wide awake. I’m the one who wakes up all the time in the middle of the night, but Enzo is a sound sleeper. I’m not sure if I’ve ever woken up to find him missing from our bed before. Where could he be? Is he in the bathroom?

But I can clearly see the master bathroom. He’s not there.

The sound of a car engine catches my attention. I dart over to the window, and my mouth falls open when my husband’s truck pulls into our driveway. What was he doing driving around our neighborhood in the middle of the night?

As he parks in the driveway, the cab of his truck is out of sight, so I can’t see him climbing out. More importantly, I can’t see if he was alone in there. I don’t know what would be worse—if he were driving around in the middle of the night by himself or if he were with somebody.

Who am I kidding? With somebody is definitely worse.

My husband’s footsteps grow louder as he climbs the stairs leading up to the second floor. He’s moving slowly, trying not to make too much noise. He’s hoping not to wake me. He’s hoping that when he gets back to the bedroom, I will be sound asleep and none the wiser.

He is in for a surprise.

The door to the bedroom cracks open. Enzo peeks his head inside, and his eyes widen when he sees me sitting up in bed. “Millie,” he says. “Uh, hello.”

“Where were you?” I snap at him.

“I was…” He looks over his shoulder in the direction of the hallway. “I was thirsty. I just went downstairs to get a drink of water.”

“In blue jeans?”

Enzo looks down at his jeans and T-shirt. He’s also wearing socks, which he would never sleep in. It’s very clear that between the time when he went to bed with me and this moment, he put on clothing.

Before he can come up with yet another lie, I say, “I saw your truck pulling into the driveway. So tell me again, where were you?”

“I am sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I was having trouble sleeping, so I go for a drive. I did not want to bother you or worry you.”

“You went for a drive?”

“I did.”

“Where did you go?”

He shrugs. “Just drive around neighborhood.”

“By yourself?”

He nods. “Myself.”

I remember the way he smiled at that police officer who caught him speeding and lied through his teeth. I’ve known him a long time, but if I did not already know the truth that day, I never would have known he was lying. And when I look at him now, I truly can’t tell. Was he just going for a drive because he couldn’t sleep?

Or was he doing something more ominous?

“You should not worry,” he tells me. “Is nothing. Just a quick drive. And now I’m back.” He lets out a loud yawn. “And it worked. Now I am tired.”

He kicks off his blue jeans, then strips off his T-shirt. He takes off his socks one by one and tosses them in the laundry basket. Then he climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me.

“Go to sleep, Millie,” he murmurs. “It is late.”

I want to go to sleep. I’m tired and I’ve got a long day at work tomorrow. I wish I could close my eyes and drift off the way he seems to be doing. I wish that more than anything.

But it’s extremely hard to sleep when another woman’s perfume is tickling your nostrils.

FORTY-ONE

Enzo is cheating on me.

It’s all I can think about as I drive home from work, even though I’m making excellent time on the Long Island Expressway (for a change). It’s been two nights since Enzo snuck out in the middle of the night. Two nights since he came home stinking of what I’m pretty sure was Suzette’s perfume. And I can’t seem to get it out of my head.