I wake up in the middle of the night and Nick’s side of the bed is empty.

I rub my eyes until the clock by our bed comes into focus. It’s after three in the morning. I listen for the sound of running water coming from the bathroom but I hear nothing. The house is silent.

“Nick?” I call out. No answer.

My stomach churns. I thought Nick and I reconnected last night, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was a disappointment to him and made him realize he wanted that other woman more. Maybe that’s where he is right now. With her.

Before I can stop myself, I fumble around in the drawer next to my bed, feeling around for the binoculars. My fingers close around the cool metal and I pull them out. I’m close enough to the window that I have a good view of the motel. Of Christina’s room.

I focus the binoculars on the room where I saw Nick kissing that woman earlier tonight. But even with the lenses, I can’t see a thing. The room is dark.

Damn.

I sit up in bed, propping myself up against the pillows, trying to get a better look. And that’s when I see some movement along the back of the motel. Near the dumpster.

It’s Nick.

What’s he doing over there?

I focus in the best I can on his face. He’s not smiling. He dumps a black trash bag in the dumpster, then he wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He takes a step back, staring at the dumpster. He wipes his hands on his jeans, then starts back to our house.

What the hell was he doing there at three in the morning?

When Nick disappears from my view, I yank the drawer open and throw the binoculars inside before he can see them. My heart is pounding as his footsteps grow louder on the stairs outside the door. A few moments later, Nick’s silhouette appears in the doorway.

The first thing he does is go to the bathroom. He washes his hands for at least two minutes. There’s a rule that you’re supposed to sing the happy birthday song to know how long to wash, but he washes far longer than that. He finally comes out of the bathroom, strips off his jeans and T-shirt, and quietly slips onto the mattress beside me, trying hard not to wake me.

Too bad I’m already wide awake. “Nick?” I whisper.

I hear him inhale sharply beside me. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

I wait for him to explain where he just was. When he says nothing, I say, “Where did you go?”

“I just…” He shifts on the mattress next to me. “I needed some fresh air.”

He lied to me. He wasn’t just getting some fresh air. He was doing something by the motel. But why would he lie?

Nick reaches over and wraps his arm around me. He tugs my body close to his. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep.”

I close my eyes but it takes a long time to go back to sleep.

When Nick helps me into my wheelchair the next morning, I hear a noise coming from outside the window. I almost reach for my binoculars, but I can’t do that with Nick here. Anyway, I don’t need my binoculars to see what the noise is. There’s a garbage truck right outside the window.

I keep my eyes pinned on the garbage truck. It goes around the side of the motel. I watch as the contents of the garbage bin are emptied into the truck. In another couple of hours, everything in the bin will be at the local dump.

“I forgot today is garbage day,” I say.

Nick raises his eyebrows at me. “Yeah, it’s always Monday. I guess it’s been a while since you… Anyway, yes. The garbage truck is always here bright and early Monday morning.”

And whatever he put in that dumpster at three in the morning is now gone. He made sure of that.

Instead of the usual peck on the forehead before he leaves, Nick leans in to give me a luxurious kiss on the lips. Despite everything, I feel a stirring of attraction for him. Maybe I’m not entirely dead inside. Ironically, maybe him kissing another woman was what we needed to give our marriage a shot in the arm.

But I’m still going to keep an eye on Christina’s room today.

“Maybe tonight we could have a nice dinner together?” he suggests.

I grin at him. “You’re a terrible cook though.”

“Hey!” He clutches his chest, mock offended. “Well, I could ask Greta to make us something. I know you love her cooking.” He pauses. “Or we could go out somewhere.”

The idea of venturing out into the real world makes me feel like a hand is squeezing my chest. The only places I go anymore are to doctors’ appointments. “Let’s ask Greta.”

To his credit, Nick doesn’t push me. “Okay.”

He kisses me one more time, then he goes off to the motel. I watch him walk across the pathway from our house to the front of the building. I wait until he’s inside before I reach for my binoculars.

I focus on Christina’s room. I recognize there’s a chance he might go up there to tell her it’s over between the two of them. He knows I can see the room from here, even though

he doesn’t know about the binoculars. So I’m sure he’ll be careful.

But when I zero in on the room, it’s still dark.

I look down at my watch. Nick usually doesn’t head over there until later in the morning, and it’s nearly ten o’clock now. Surely she would be up by now, right? Unless she checked out. Or went out somewhere.

But no. Her Nissan is still in the parking lot. There’s nowhere she could have gone on foot.

Christina is still in the motel. So why is her room dark?

It’s just after seven when I see Nick leaving the motel with a large Tupperware container of Greta’s stew.

I’ve kept my eyes on Christina’s room the entire day. I haven’t seen the lights go on once. There’s been no movement inside the room. As far as I can see, there’s no one in that room.

Yet her car is still in the parking lot.

I hide my binoculars once again when I hear the front door slam shut, followed by Nick’s steps on the stairs. I feel a tinge of fear in the pit of my stomach. I felt so many things for my husband in the time we’ve been together, but this sensation of fear is new.

The door to the bedroom sticks a bit, and it takes a few seconds from him to get it open. He bursts into our bedroom, a grin splitting his face. He proudly holds up the Tupperware container with two plates on top.

“Dinner!” he announces.

I attempt to return his smile. “Oh. Great.”

“Do you want it up here?” He sets down the Tupperware on a dresser. “Or we could go down and eat in the dining room. We haven’t done that in a long time. I could carry you and—”

“Did you ask Christina to leave?” I interrupt him. It’s all I can think about.

“I’m sorry.” Splatters of red appear on his neck. “No, I didn’t. I tried to tell her but every time I knocked on her door, she didn’t answer.”

“I see…” I tug at the sleeve of my shirt. “And she’s definitely still in the motel?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, her car is still there.” “Yeah…”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t with her at all today. I swear to you. I’ll only see her one more time to tell her to leave. That’s it.”

I want to believe him. But where is she?

And what was he doing at three in the morning?

He sits on the bed, close to me. He reaches for my hand, and I allow him to squeeze it in his own. “You believe me, right, Rosie?”

What can I say to him but yes?