I Saw My Husband With Another Woman in Denver. I Smiled and Complimented His “Friend.”

the soft jazz piping through hidden speakers mixing with the click of heels on marble floors. I had flown in that morning from Chicago on a last-minute ticket I’d booked the night before, though I couldn’t have explained to anyone exactly why. Just a feeling. The kind of instinct that lives somewhere below conscious thought, in the part of you that continue reading …