Page 96 of Finding Amanda

She stacked the cups and set them in the cupboard carefully. "No."

"Okay then, when?"

"A long time ago. He just told me today because Annalise moved in."

"She moved in with him?" Her high-pitched voice caused shudders to slide down Amanda's spine. How could she pretend not to care with Jamie freaking out?

"No. She moved in across the hall."

"This is ridiculous. I don't want to play twenty questions. Sit down and tell me everything."

Amanda planted her fists on her hips, prepared to tell Jamie to go home. But her friend was fighting tears. She dropped her hands and blew out her anger in a puff of air. "I'm sorry. He slept with her a long time ago, before we got married, and he told me today because, apparently, Annalise told his mother, and he was afraid his mother would tell me. Which she would, if I'd ever answer her calls, which I won't. So our whole marriage is built on a lie. It's over. It's just . . . over."

Jamie stood and started around the bar.

"Don't. I don't want to be comforted."

Jamie slid back into the seat. "Okay. What do you want?"

"Honestly? I want to be alone."

"Well, that's too bad, because I'm not leaving. You're telling me he cheated on you, what? Ten years ago?"

Amanda turned back to the dishwasher. She took out the plastic storage containers, dried the last few drops off of them, and slid them into the cabinet. "Almost."

"And for that you're going to divorce him?"

"I was already going to divorce him, so it doesn't matter." Tears burned as she remembered those few hours—had it beenthat very morning?—when she'd thought she would take him back.

"If it doesn't matter, then why are you crying?"

She brushed her tears away with her sweatshirt and stacked the girls' plastic cups. "He betrayed me, and it hurts, okay? That doesn't mean I want him back, but it still hurts. He's just . . . he's not the man I thought he was."

"Because he strayed a decade ago? That's silly?—"

"Silly? How would you feel if Chris cheated on you? I bet you wouldn't think that wassilly."

Amanda grabbed a handful of silverware out of the sink. She could probably rinse it off in hot water—it had only been on the floor for a second—but she didn't have the energy. She shoved the whole handful in the dishwasher basket.

"That's not what I mean. I mean he's still the man you thought he was. He's not perfect, Amanda. Everyone sins sometimes."

"Don't start with the Christian crap, okay?"

"Well, whether you're a Christian or not, you have to know that's true. We all do things we shouldn't. Mark's no exception."

Amanda brushed her tears away again. "Not the Mark I knew. Not this."

"Amanda, he's a sinner, just like me, just like you?—"

"I would never do that to him!"

"I'm not saying you would. But you've done other stuff, right? You're not perfect. Mark's not perfect. You're both just doing your best. He loves you, Amanda."

She snorted.

"He wants you back. Can't you at least think about forgiving him?"

She propped her hip against the against the counter, going for nonchalant. "He doesn't deserve forgiveness."

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