Not immediately. Not recklessly.
Just consider it.
Nathan had shut the idea down.
“My career is here,” he’d said. “We can’t just pick up our entire lives.”
I’d been angry, but eventually I’d accepted his argument.
His work was specialized. He had seniority. We had stability.
Moving, he’d insisted, simply wasn’t realistic.
But apparently Seattle was.
That afternoon, while Nathan was at work, I messaged Susan.
“Can we talk?”
She replied almost immediately.
“Yes.”
We met after work at a quiet coffee shop.
Susan looked uncomfortable before she even sat down.
“I need you to know nothing has happened between Nathan and me.”
“I didn’t come here to ask if you’re sleeping with my husband.”
That seemed to surprise her.
“I want to know how much you know.”
Her expression changed.
“About Seattle?”
“About Nathan.”
Susan looked down at her hands.
“Probably more than I should.”
At least she didn’t lie.
She told me Nathan had talked about the possibility of a permanent Seattle team weeks ago.
He’d asked her what she thought about the project, the city, the hours, the pressure.
“Did you encourage him to take it?”
“I encouraged him to talk to you.”
“Apparently that part didn’t stick.”
Susan winced.
“I thought he’d told you about the original assignment until last night.”
“But you knew I didn’t know about the extension.”
“Yes.”
“And you texted him.”
“Because I was angry.”
That made me pause.
She continued.
“He kept saying he’d tell you once Bennett decided. Then Bennett decided. Nathan still didn’t tell you.”
I studied her face.
“Why does he talk to you about this stuff?”
“We work together a lot. Sometimes late. He talks when he’s stressed.”
“About our marriage?”
Susan was quiet for too long.
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me about your mother.”
I sat back.
Of everything she could have said, that was the one I wasn’t prepared for.
“He told you that?”
