Chapter 3 - My Best Friend's Terrible Mistake
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nancy's name glowing on Sean's phone.
We still have until Monday.
The message made no sense.
If this was merely a foolish romantic experiment, why was there a deadline?
Why had Nancy discussed it with Sean before either of them approached me?
And why had my husband seemed so certain she would agree?
At eight-thirty the next morning, I called Nancy.
She answered cheerfully.
“Rachel! Good morning!”
“Did Sean tell you what he suggested last night?”
There was a pause.
“What exactly did he say?”
“He wants us to swap husbands for a week.”
Silence.
I waited.
Finally, Nancy laughed softly.
“Well, I suppose that's one way to shake things up.”
I nearly dropped my phone.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, maybe it could be interesting.”
“Nancy, we've been friends for twelve years.”
“I know that.”
“Then explain why you think spending a week with my husband sounds interesting.”
Her voice became defensive.
“Rachel, don't twist my words.”
“Have you already discussed this with Sean?”
Another pause.
“Don't make it weird.”
That answer told me everything I needed to know.
“Did you suggest it to him?”
“No.”
“Then why aren't you surprised?”
“Because I'm more open-minded than you are.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot.
“Being open-minded has nothing to do with respecting your best friend's marriage.”
She exhaled sharply.
“Look, Sean thinks your relationship needs excitement. Alex and I have been struggling too. Maybe this could help everyone.”
I hadn't known their marriage was in trouble.
Alex was a decent, hardworking man who worked as a facilities manager for the local school district.
He wasn't flashy like Sean.
He didn't buy expensive watches or boast about business deals.
But he remembered birthdays, showed up when people needed help, and never treated his wife as an inconvenience.
I had always assumed Nancy appreciated those qualities.
Apparently, I had been mistaken.
“Does Alex actually want this?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Have you asked him?”
She hesitated.
“We're discussing it.”
I closed my eyes.
“Nancy, if you value our friendship at all, tell me the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Are you and Sean already involved?”
Her voice sharpened.
“How dare you?”
“It's a simple question.”
“And it's insulting.”
“Then answer it.”
She didn't.
Instead, she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Rachel, by Friday night, this will all feel perfectly normal.”
I sat upright.
“Friday night?”
“Yes.”
“Who said anything about Friday?”
Another silence.
Sean and I hadn't chosen a date.
We hadn't agreed to anything.
Yet Nancy already knew exactly when the exchange was supposed to happen.
“Nancy?”
“I have to go. A customer just walked into the boutique.”
The line went dead.
I remained seated at the kitchen table, staring at my phone.
I didn't cry.
Not yet.
I simply began remembering things.
The way Nancy and Sean laughed at private jokes during dinners.
The way she suddenly knew details about Sean's work schedule that I hadn't told her.
The weekend she claimed her car had broken down near his office.
The afternoon I walked into our kitchen and found them standing unusually close together.
At the time, I had dismissed every uncomfortable feeling.
Because suspicion seemed like betrayal.
Now I was beginning to understand that ignoring my instincts had given them room to deceive me.
That afternoon, I drove to Willow House.
It was a modest two-story cottage overlooking Cedar Lake, about forty minutes outside town.
My mother, Elaine Morgan, had lived there for thirty-six years.
After she died, the property became mine.
I had preserved her flower garden, repaired the kitchen, and dreamed of turning the house into a small retreat for families grieving loved ones.
Standing on the porch, I remembered something my mother used to say.
“Rachel, love doesn't ask you to stop trusting yourself.”
I wished she were there to say it again.
Before leaving, I checked the small cabinet where I kept copies of the property's important documents.
The cabinet was locked.
But when I opened it, I discovered that the folder containing the original deed was missing.
I searched every drawer.
Every shelf.
Every box.
Nothing.
Someone had taken it.
And only two people besides me knew where I kept that key.
May you like
My husband.
And my best friend.
