When Keane’s wife was alive, he’d occasionally say, “A quiet woman is a dangerous thing.” Donovan wanted to text Keane to find out how to undo the silence.

Becca reached for a slice of fried zucchini. She was mad. When Becca was mad, she didn’t eat. Lloyd and Monica, on the other hand, filled their plates with appetizers. Monica, oblivious of the discord she had caused, gushed about their trip. “I’ve been here for less than a day, and I never want to leave. It is so beautiful here.”

“I may be biased, but Three Creeks is beautiful too,” Lloyd directed his attention to Becca. “Wouldn’t you say there are a lot of things that make it just as nice as here?”

“I’m sorry what were you saying?” Becca sat at the table, but Donovan could tell her mind was elsewhere. Probably rehearsing the conversation she planned to have with Abigail when she was free of the constraints of an audience.

Lloyd didn’t get the hint. “I was trying to tell Monica some of the nicer things about where we live.”

“Yeah, it’s so great you have to go to a dating site to meet women.”

Donovan who was just as guilty as Lloyd didn’t know whether to cringe or laugh at his wife’s comment. Self-preservation advised him to go with the latter.

“What is the male to female ratio where you live?” Poor Monica probably said it to help Lloyd. Becca wasn’t having it.

“No. The ratio is fine. I imagine the men are looking for a different kind of companion. The ones they have been around all their lives know what they’re getting. Or at least they should.”

At this point in the conversation, Donovan knew better than to eat anything. Lloyd, in his lack of perception, had taken a huge swig of beer and choked on it. Monica rubbed his back and offered him a drink of her water.

“Could you two excuse us for a minute?” Donovan didn’t give Becca a chance to refuse his request. He tugged at her elbow to follow him. She offered Lloyd and Monica her biggest fake smile and scooted out of her chair to join him.

In the waiting area closer to the entrance, the restaurant had chairs in front of an aquarium full of live fish. Donovan brought Becca there in hopes that the lack of an audience, but being in a public place would foster a healthy discussion. In other words, he wanted witnesses if she tried to kill him.

“Let me explain.”

“There is no need to explain anything. What you did before we were married is none of my business.” Sadness tinted her voice.

Donovan was prepared for anger or hostility. Sadness was an emotion he had difficulty decoding. He went for the safest word he knew. “I’m sorry.”

She turned to face him. “What are you sorry about?”

“I’m sorry that you are upset.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” she replied. “I’ll be fine after a while.”

After a while? “Does that mean you accept my apology?”

“There is nothing to accept." She shrugged her shoulders, "It isn’t like we had a real engagement. One minute you were single and the next we had to plan a wedding. We never said anything about dating other people. I just assumed.”

She didn't have to say it for him to know what she was thinking. His hands-off engagement policy was working against him. “I wasn’t seeing anybody else. What we have is real, Becca.”

Keane was right. As soon as Monica dropped that bomb of information, Donovan should have followed Becca into the bathroom and straightened things out.

Instead, he allowed the giver of the message go in and take care of things for him. In doing so, Becca had at least a good twenty minutes to forge a wall. A wall he taught her to build. He used to say to her, “Look for the signs. Infidelity has a way of making itself known if you know what to see.” He never expected to be on the receiving end of his wisdom.

“We should get back to the table. We're being rude.” Becca motioned to stand but never made it because Donovan pulled her back to sit.

“After I made my decision to propose to you, I went on Meet My Match to delete my profile. While I was on there, I got a call and went on to do something else. Until Monica mentioned it, I forgot about it. In my mind, I deleted my information.” He pulled her hands into his and leaned forward to force her to look into his eyes. “You have to believe me.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

She said yes with her words, but her face lacked the small barely perceptible smile of reconciliation. Her eyes were distant, and her jaw was slack.

“Good,” Donovan stood. “I’m going back there to tell Lloyd and Monica that we’re ditching them to go make up.”

Becca stood and gasped. “You can’t say that.”

Her desire to be discreet charmed him. “I can and will. Are you joining me?” 

She scanned the area. Other than the woman at the hostess stand, they were alone. Becca half whispered, “I don’t want to go and make up.”

“Trust me you will.” He stopped to offer a sly grin. “Unless of course, you want me to go back there and spend an entire meal helping Lloyd convince Monica that Three Creeks is the place to be.”

Donovan’s wife said the three words that proved he knew her better than she thought he did. “We’re making up.”