My husband went to work that morning, but someone else came home in the evening. It looked and sounded exactly like Scott, down to the smallest detail, but somehow I could tell it wasn’t him.
I was in the bathroom trying to decide what to do. He was in bed reading. How could I act calm and in control sleeping next to a stranger? What was it about him that made me feel that way?
“Kendra?” he called. “You coming to bed?”
Maybe I could trick him into exposing himself as an imposter. Sitting in bed, I flipped through a magazine trying to look relaxed.
“So how was the lunch I packed for you today?” I asked.
“Good. Bread was a little stale. Should pick up a new loaf tomorrow.”
Okay, he got that one right. “I thought I’d do seafood tomorrow night and cook some mussels.”
He lowered his glasses on his nose and looked over at me. “Are you okay? You know I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“Sorry. I’m a dummy.”
“Besides, I thought we were going to have dinner at your sister’s tomorrow night.”
“Oh, right, right. I completely forgot.”
Scott set his book on his lap and turned to me. “My wife Kendra doesn’t have a sister. Who the hell are you?”