Death Row (Alibis Collection, #1)

by Freida McFadden

Excuse me

But he barely makes it home for dinner more than a couple of times a week.

If I’d looked quickly, I might have missed Noel at the far end of the yard, standing just a little bit too close to a woman I don’t recognize.

Noel has lost his sense of smell, but I haven’t, and I am very aware that he reeks of another woman’s perfume.

She reeks of the same perfume that’s been clinging to Noel when he comes home.

So obvious still good though