“I’ll leave the porch light on.”
“Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He hung up.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the phone.
I actually felt sorry for him.
I was even thinking about sending him an Uber gift card so he could order something better than a vending-machine sandwich.
Then my phone buzzed.
A DoorDash notification.
Your order from Sakana Sushi is on the way.
I frowned.
We shared the account because of the DashPass subscription.
At first, I assumed Daniel had ordered something without telling me.
Then I remembered something.
Daniel hated sushi.
Not disliked it.
Hated it.
He once told me that raw fish made him gag.
I opened the order.
My stomach tightened.
Valentine’s Deluxe Platter.
Two orders of spicy tuna.
Edamame.
Miso soup.
And then I saw the delivery instructions.
Two sets of chopsticks. Extra ginger.
I stared at the screen.
Two sets.
I actually laughed.
It was a nervous little laugh because my brain hadn’t caught up with what my eyes were seeing.
“That’s weird,” I whispered.
Maybe he was ordering for coworkers.
Maybe someone at the office wanted sushi.
Maybe his coworkers were eating together.
There were a dozen explanations.
Then I looked at the delivery address.
My hands went cold.
It wasn’t his office.
It wasn’t any restaurant near his office.
It was the Hilton downtown.
Room 612.
I sat down on the kitchen chair.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
My first thought wasn’t, “He’s cheating.”
It was:
Why would he be at a hotel?
Then I remembered his phone call.
“I’ll just grab a sandwich from the vending machine.”
I stared at the screen again.
The order had already been picked up.
I waited ten minutes.
Then I texted him.
Hey honey, did you find anything to eat?
His reply came almost immediately.