The note is still crumpled in my hand.
Business dinner running late. Don't wait up. -T
Another one, the fifth this week and the twentieth this month.
I'm standing in our empty apartment, staring at those words, and I realize something: I'm done waiting.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number with a photo attached.
Tony was in a hotel bar with her.
Vivian Cross.
She's leaning close, laughing at something he said. Her hand on his arm with that perfect smile and calculated intimacy.
The text read: Thought you should know where your boyfriend really is. The Regency Hotel. Room 1267. -A Friend
My hands shook; this could be a setup or a manipulation.
But the photo is timestamped twenty minutes ago.
I grabbed my coat and determined that I was going.
The Regency is upscale. The kind of place Tony and I used to go for date nights, and where we celebrated our first year anniversary together before he got too busy for anything remotely dating or hanging out.
