I had been patient because I believed marriage meant making room for each other’s imperfections.
But patience couldn’t turn betrayal into love.
Three days later, I returned home.
The children were at school, and Denise had helped keep everything running while I was away.
Ryan was waiting in the living room.
He stood when I entered.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s doing better.”
“I’m glad.”
He looked at my suitcase.
Then at my face.
“Kylie, please. We need to talk.”
I set the suitcase down.
“All right.”
He seemed surprised that I had agreed.
“I know you’re angry.”
“Angry isn’t the only thing I am.”
He swallowed.
“I made a terrible mistake.”
I looked at him.
“Which one?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“The first kiss? The hotel? The messages? The photographs? Or the four months of lies?”
He lowered his head.
“I know how bad it looks.”
I felt a strange calm settle over me.
