I turned toward him.
“Who were you with last night?”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.”
His eyes moved toward the phone.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I had been afraid to form in my mind.
“Are you having an affair with my daughter?”
The color drained from his face.
“Sarah, no.”
“Then explain the photograph. Explain the messages. Explain why you keep meeting her in secret.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
I laughed bitterly.
“Ten years, Michael. Ten years I defended our marriage when people questioned our age difference. Ten years I told everyone that you were a good man. And all this time, you were making me look like a fool?”
“Please, let me explain.”
“Then explain!”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t do it right now.”
I stared at him.
“You can’t?”
“Not like this.”
