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gestured vaguely in the direction of the pool.
    She followed my gaze and then turned back toward me. “Were you spying on me?”
    Even in my buzzed and jealous state, I sensed the danger in her question. Her eyes were locked in on mine. I tried to read her emotions, but it was hard. Was she angry? Amused? Defensive? Guilty? All of the above?
    “No, not spying on you, per se. I was just looking around and happened to notice you… with a man.”
    She said nothing. She just continued to frown at me, almost inviting me to hang myself with my own words.
    “You… um… seemed to be having fun,” I continued lamely. “I don’t know… do you know him from somewhere?”
    She hesitated, as if considering her options. Her continued silence tempting me to continue rambling.
    “I –“
    She cut me off. “We were just chatting. His name is Trent. He’s here for the week.”
    “So, is he married?”
    She laughed at how transparent I was being.
    “No, not quite. He was actually supposed to be on his honeymoon, but he got left at the altar, poor guy. The plane tickets were non-refundable, so he decided to come out anyway.”
    I snorted.
    “What?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “You don’t really believe that?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Oh please,” I chuckled, self-satisfied with my powers of deduction. “That’s just a line. Poor guy. Some woman just broke his heart. Won’t someone please help him learn again to trust? Restore his belief in love?”
    Claire regarded me open-mouthed. A look of understanding crossed her face. I smirked smugly thinking I’d convinced her.
    She grinned and shook her head.
    “You’re really invested in this.”
    “What?”
    “In this whole… what… fantasy? My boyfriend. Your poor, dumb, naïve wife getting hit on by the pool.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered.
    She gave me a piercing gaze. “Oh God, John, more? Is that why you accused me of being away too long? Did you think I’d gone off with him?”
    It did sound crazy when she said it out loud.
    “It’s not like that.”
    She eyed me skeptically. “Oh? Then how is it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You see me sitting by the pool talking to a man, and your mind immediately jumps to me cheating on you?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t need to. So, it’s okay. Come clean, is that one of your things?”
    “What things?”
    “The cuckold thing. Do you think of me with other men?”
    “I am not a cuckold,” I denied hotly.
    She laughed.
    “You can thank me for that!”
    “So he was hitting on you?”
    She rolled her eyes. “He was nice. He never propositioned me.”
    Would she admit it even if he had? I didn’t know. I wondered how he’d describe it.
    “So what put this in your head then if it’s not a thing,” she persisted.
    “Never mind.”
    “Oh come on, John. I’m not angry. It’s just a little funny, you know. Here we are on our honeymoon, and you’re thinking of me with other men.”
    Her tone struck me as patronizing. I dug in.
    “You are being naïve, babe. He was definitely hitting on you. The sun, the ocean air, the booze, this place oozes sex. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.”
    Her eyes lit up. “Oooh, tell me.”
    “No, I…”
    “You might not be a cuckold, but you’re definitely a voyeur. You just admitted it. Anyway, you’ve always gotten a kick out of playing Sherlock Holmes with people. You used that routine on me when we first met.”
    “Did not.”
    “Did too!”
    She paused, then continued, “Come on. Tell me what you saw. What put the idea of me cheating on you into your head?”
    She peered over the railing of the balcony. “We do have a great view up here.”
    She looked over at the other wing of the hotel. “I bet we can even see into some of those rooms over there.”
    It was like she could read my mind. With each statement, I felt myself blushing a little more deeply, until my guilt was written all