Chapter 1: The Woman in My Pool
“Lauren, please don’t make a scene.””
That was the first thing my husband said when I caught him half-naked in our swimming pool with another woman.
Not I'm sorry.
Not I can explain.
Not even This isn't what it looks like.
Just don't make a scene.
I stood on the limestone patio with two grocery bags hanging from my hands, staring at the man I'd been married to for eleven years.
The evening sun painted the backyard gold. Water shimmered beneath the outdoor lights. A bottle of expensive champagne sat open beside the pool, and two crystal glasses rested on the edge.
My husband, Daniel, was shirtless in the water.
And wrapped around his shoulder was a brunette wearing a blue swimsuit.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then one of the grocery bags slipped from my fingers.
A carton of eggs hit the patio. Tomatoes rolled beneath the outdoor dining table. A bunch of green onions scattered across the stone.
The sound seemed impossibly loud.
“Are you kidding me?”” I asked.
Daniel's expression changed immediately.
He lifted both hands, sending ripples across the pool.
“Lauren, listen to me.””
I looked at the woman.
She was probably in her late twenties, with long brown hair slicked back from the water and a gold bracelet around her wrist.
She glanced at Daniel.
Then at me.
Then back at Daniel.
“Who is she?”” I asked.
Daniel swallowed.
“It's not what you think.””
I almost laughed.
There was something almost impressive about how quickly those words came out of his mouth.
I was standing in our backyard, holding a half-empty grocery bag, looking at my husband with another woman in our swimming pool.
What exactly was I supposed to think?
“Daniel,” I said quietly, “I asked you a question.””
The woman finally spoke.
“I'm Vanessa.””
I turned toward her.
“I didn't ask your name.””
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Daniel moved closer to the pool steps.
“Lauren, please. We can talk about this inside.””
“Inside?””
“Yes. Just give me a minute.””
I looked at the expensive outdoor furniture, the champagne, the towels, and the neatly folded clothes on the nearby lounger.
His shirt.
His trousers.
His watch.
Everything had been arranged as though he had planned to spend the entire evening here.
Beside the lounger, our outdoor fire pit burned with a steady orange flame.
I remembered buying those chairs with Daniel three summers earlier.
He'd insisted they were too expensive.
I'd paid for them anyway.
Funny how memories worked. Sometimes the smallest details hurt more than the obvious betrayal.
“Lauren,” Daniel said again, his voice becoming sharper, “don't make this worse.””
I slowly set the remaining grocery bag on the patio.
Then I walked toward the lounger.
“What are you doing?”” he asked.
I picked up his white dress shirt.
“Lauren?””
I lifted his trousers.
“Hey. What are you doing?””
I didn't answer.
Instead, I turned toward the fire pit.
Daniel suddenly understood.
“Wait.””
I dropped the shirt into the flames.
The fabric caught almost immediately.
Then I threw in his trousers.
“STOP!””
His voice echoed across the backyard.
Vanessa stood frozen in the water.
Daniel lunged toward the edge of the pool, but he was too far away to reach the fire.
“Oh no! Please!”” he shouted.
“Lauren, stop!””
I watched the flames curl around the clothes.
“You already explained everything,” I said.
Daniel stared at me.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I don't need another explanation.””
I picked up his expensive watch from the lounger and placed it on the stone table.
That, at least, wasn't mine to destroy.
He looked as though he wanted to climb out of the pool.
“Lauren, that's my shirt!””
“I know.””
“My clothes!””
“I know, Daniel.””
“You're acting insane!””
I finally looked him directly in the eyes.
“No. I'm acting like a woman who just discovered her husband has been entertaining another woman in the home she pays for.””
Vanessa's face changed.
“Wait. What?””
Daniel whipped around.
“Vanessa, don't.””
She looked between us.
“Daniel, you told me—”
“Not now!””
That was interesting.
Very interesting.
I walked toward the outdoor security gate.
Our property had a private entrance with an electronic keypad. Daniel had insisted on installing it after we moved into the neighborhood.
He loved privacy.
He loved telling people that our home was our sanctuary.
Apparently, he also loved bringing other women into it.
I entered the security code.
Beep.
Daniel looked toward the gate.
“Lauren, what are you doing?””
Beep.
The gate motor hummed.
“Turn that off!”” he shouted.
I pressed the final button.
The heavy iron gates began sliding open.
Daniel's face went pale.
“Lauren…”
For the first time that evening, he sounded genuinely frightened.
A black Cadillac Escalade appeared beyond the entrance.
It rolled slowly up the driveway before stopping near the front courtyard.
The passenger door opened.
A tall man stepped out in a charcoal suit.
Another man emerged from the driver's side.
Behind them, a woman in an elegant cream dress stepped onto the driveway.
Vanessa turned toward the entrance.
At first, she looked confused.
Then her expression collapsed.
Her lips parted.
She gripped the edge of the pool.
“Oh my God…”
Daniel closed his eyes.
The woman stared at the man standing beside the Cadillac.
Then she whispered the words that changed everything.
May you like
“That's my husband.””
And for the first time that evening, Daniel had absolutely nothing to say.
