Instead, I opened the message.
The photograph showed my husband and my daughter sitting close together at a restaurant table. His arm rested along the back of her chair. Emily was smiling at the camera, holding a glass of wine. Michael had a beer in his hand.
They looked comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Beneath the photograph, Emily had added a second message.
“I’ll never forget how you helped me last night. You were amazing.”
I felt as if the floor had shifted beneath my feet.
What had happened last night?
Why did she hope I would never find out?
And why was my husband keeping secrets with the daughter I had trusted him to protect?
The bathroom door opened.
I quickly placed the phone back on the table, but I was too late to hide my expression.
Michael stepped into the bedroom, drying his hair with a towel.
“Sarah? What’s wrong?”
