Michael swallowed hard. Sipping his G&T, he looked off in the direction Garret had gone. They both did. There was no sign of him.

 

"Garret gets nervous, at times. It isn't insensitivity, it's only that he doesn't know quite what to say." Michael took another sip, then set down his glass and turned it counter-clockwise. "Garret and I worked very, very closely at one time. I don't know if he mentioned I'm his assistant at the office."

 

"He didn't mention anything," Edith replied, trying not to snap at him. It was Garret she was upset with, leaving her alone with a stranger.

 

"Don't be too hard on Garret. He's one of the gentlest, loveliest men I've ever known."

 

As Edith pondered the guy's blond curls and boyish good looks, an image took her from behind: an image of his cherubic pink lips against Garret's, of his manicured hands unbuttoning Garret's pressed white shirt.

 

Edith gasped. "You're the other other woman!"

 

"Something like that," he replied, with a forlorn grin. "You're disappointed."

 

"That bastard!" Edith smacked her hand against the table with such force a bolt of pain shot through her fingers. "I can't believe he lied to me."

 

"He lied?"

 

"Well, I assumed he'd had an affair with another woman, and he didn't correct me." She massaged the pang from her knuckles. "Don't you think he should have told me I was wrong? Now I feel like a complete idiot."

 

"You mustn't feel that way." Michael touched his fingertips to hers. "You're quite right-he should have advised you what to expect. Don't be too hard on him, though. He's only trying to give you what you asked for."