“Then tell him to stop running to you,” I said, “every single time he is supposed to be with his wife.”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” she snapped.

I reached into my bag and set a printed list on the marble between us.

“Our wedding menu tasting: a call from you.

The day we signed our marriage license: a call from you.

Our first night on our honeymoon: a text from you.