The pieces slammed into place.
"He was going to her," I said. "Route 9. That's why he was on that road. He was going to… end it?"
"I think so," Ben said. “I can’t say for sure, not now, but… Yes, I think he was going to end it.”
"But I don't understand," I said, my mind racing. "If he was seeing her for eight months... I went through his phone, Ben. I went through everything. There wasn't a single text from her. Not one call. Until tonight."
Ben looked at me with a pity that made my skin crawl. "He would have had a second phone, Olivia."
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
A burner phone.
Of course.
Ryan was an architect. He would keep his life with me in one pristine, well-lit room, and he would keep Lucia in another, locked tight.
The text to Ben—this ends tonight—was on his main phone because Ben was part of the main structure. Ben was part of the real life. Lucia was the anomaly.
I felt a laugh bubbling up in my chest, manic and sharp.
"I always thought I knew everything," I said, the words spilling out. "I knew his coffee order, his favorite shirt. I knew exactly how he liked his eggs." The laugh escaped, sounding like a sob. "I knew Ryan."
"Olivia—"
"He bought a second phone," I said, my voice rising. "He hid it, charged it, deleted messages. Looked me in the face every single day for eight months and lied, and he was so good at itthat I didn't even suspect." I slammed my hand onto the counter. "How could I not know?"
"Because he didn't want you to know," Ben said firmly. "He was careful. He was protecting this."
"Protecting what?" I demanded. "Me? Or himself?"
Ben didn't answer.
I looked at him, standing there in his dirty work clothes, the only person left who could tell me the truth. There was one question left. The question that mattered more than the where or the when or the how.
"Ben," I said.
He met my eyes. He looked terrified of what I was about to ask.
"Do you think he loved her?"
The kitchen went silent. The hum of the fridge seemed to stop. The only sound was the blood rushing in my ears.
Ben opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked down at his mug, at the dust on his boots. He looked anywhere but at me.
"Ben," I said again.
He looked up.
"I don't know," he whispered.
If he had said no, I would have known he was lying. If he had said yes, it would have killed me instantly.
But I don't know what was worse.
"I think..." Ben started, then stopped, searching for the words. "I think it was complicated. I think he was lost. I think… God, Liv."
Maybe.
