November 2010. Wednesday morning. My penthouse.
Katie left early. Audition at nine.
Her calendar's on the fridge. Magnetic. Color-coded.
I'm making coffee when I notice.
Tuesday. Blocked out. No details.
I check previous weeks.
Every Tuesday. Sa thing. "Busy" written in red.
Seven months dating. Never noticed before.
That night. Katie's back. Cooking dinner.
"How was the audition?"
"Terrible. They wanted twenty-five but I read thirty. Wrong vibe."
"Sorry."
"It's fine. Not ant to be."
She's chopping vegetables. Efficient. Focused.
"What do you do Tuesdays?" I ask.
"Tuesdays?"
"Yeah. Your calendar always says busy."
Her knife pauses. Barely perceptible.
"Oh. That. Recurring workshop thing."
"Workshop?"
"Acting class. isner technique. Keeps sharp."
"Didn't know you were taking classes."
"Everyone takes classes. You stop improving, you die in this town."
Makes sense. Actors take classes constantly.
"Where's it at?"
"Studio in West Hollywood. Why?"
"Just curious."
"You want to co soti? Watch?"
"I—no. That'd be weird. Watching you work."
"Probably." She goes back to chopping. "It's boring anyway. Just exercises and scene work."
"Every Tuesday?"
"Every Tuesday."
"For how long?"
"Stuart. What's with the interrogation?"
"Not interrogating. Just—asking."
"Feels like interrogating."
"Sorry."
She's right. I'm being weird.
Drop it.
Thursday. Lunch with Leonard. Cheesecake Factory.
"Katie's always busy Tuesdays," I ntion.
Leonard looks up from his nu. "Define busy."
"Workshop. Acting class."
"You've seen proof of this class?"
"Why would I need proof?"
"Because it's suspicious."
"It's not suspicious. Actors take classes."
"Every single Tuesday for seven months?"
"Apparently."
"Stuart. Co on."
"Co on what?"
"That's the classic—" He stops. Lowers his voice. "That's when people have affairs. Regular schedule. Sa excuse. Every week."
"Katie's not having an affair."
"I'm just saying—"
"She's not."
"Okay."
"She loves . We're talking about moving in together. Why would she cheat?"
"I don't know. Why does anyone cheat?"
"Leonard. Stop."
He raises his hands. Surrender.
"Fine. I'm sure it's innocent. Acting class. Totally normal."
But he doesn't sound convinced.
Friday. Katie stays over.
We're watching a movie. Her head on my chest.
"Leonard thinks you're cheating on ."
She sits up. "What?"
"The Tuesday thing. He said it's suspicious."
"That's—wow. Okay."
"I told him he was wrong."
"I should hope so."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Cheating."
"Stuart. No. Obviously not."
"Okay."
"Is this why you've been weird about Tuesdays?"
"I haven't been weird."
"You have. Asking questions. Acting suspicious."
"I'm not suspicious."
"Then what?"
"Leonard planted a seed. I'm killing the seed."
"By asking if I'm cheating?"
"By confirming you're not."
She's quiet. Then: "I'm not cheating. I love you. The class is real. If you don't believe —"
"I believe you."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then stop asking about Tuesdays."
"Okay."
"Okay."
She settles back against . Movie continues.
But sothing feels off.
Not wrong. Just—different.
The way she answered.
A little too defensive.
A little too quick.
I push the thought away.
Trust or don't date.
I choose trust.
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