She wore a new shade of lipstick—“Waitress Red”—on her lips with a slick of gloss to wet them. Brent used to say red lips made him think of blowjobs. She pouted her mouth at her reflection. That ought to make him sit up and take notice. Then, bracing herself, she let herself out of her Volvo and tugged the belt of her raincoat securely around her waist, trying not to think about how ridiculous this was, how cliché. But she was at her wit’s end. Brent didn’t know it, but he’d just spent his last night burning the midnight oil. They had enough now—enough money, enough things, enough of the right friends and associates. It was time Brent turned his considerable skills toward shoring up another relationship—one closer to home. Lily used his spare set of keys to open the outer door of the law offices and let herself inside. The reception area was dark, as was the corridor. Only a sliver of light shone beneath her husband’s door. They were alone. She unbelted the coat, letting it drop into a messy puddle at her feet.
