PART 1
My husband was always “at work,” so after our anniversary dinner sat untouched until nearly midnight, I booked an appointment under my maiden name. I expected to uncover something small. Instead, I walked into Marco’s office and found racks of women’s dresses, wigs, heels, a camera on a tripod, and a measuring tape in his hand. Then he turned around, saw me, and froze.
Marco was holding a measuring tape when I walked in.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Behind him stood a rack filled with women’s clothes, surrounded by heels and carefully styled wigs.
A full-length mirror stood nearby.
So did a camera mounted on a tripod.
For several seconds, my brain simply stopped working.
Marco had his back to me, adjusting something on a mannequin.
I stood in the doorway clutching my purse.
“Marco?”
He turned.
Every trace of color disappeared from his face.
“G-Gigi?”
The measuring tape slipped from his hand.
I looked around again.
Cream blouses.
Black dresses.
Handbags.
A makeup station.
Three wigs resting on mannequin heads.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I almost laughed.
“That’s your first question?”
Marco stepped toward me.
“Gigi, I can explain.”
“You told me you worked with a hospital.”
“I do.”
“There are women’s heels in your office.”
“I know.”
“And wigs.”
Silence.
“And a camera.”
“I can see that, Gigi.”
I pointed toward the measuring tape lying on the floor.
