A couple had invited me over for dinner. I knew the wife but I had never met the husband. I bought flowers and I brought one of my novels as well. If I'm not mistaken the wife had said: "My husband would like to read one of your novels."
Twenty minutes too late I stepped into their apartment. There was an open kitchen, there was cheese and a woman, another guest, was standing near the wine.
I gave the flowers to the wife and presented my novel to the husband. The husband looked at my novel and thanked me.
Then another man appeared. He shook my hand and he said: "Welcome, I'm so glad you could make it."
"You are her husband?' I asked.
"Yes," the second man said.
"And you are not her husband?" I asked the first man.
'Well," the first man said, "this is a long story. No I'm not her husband."
I yanked my novel out of his hands and gave it to the real husband. "I'm so embarrassed," I said.
"That's fine," the first man answered. "These things happen."