He stopped himself halfway.
But Daniel saw it.
So did I.
That tiny gesture told me more than any confession could have.
Even at that table, with his wife and son sitting across from him, Mark’s instinct had been to protect the woman he had betrayed them both with.
I turned toward my husband.
“My attorney will contact yours.”
His face went pale.
“Carol.”
“I’m filing for divorce.”
He shook his head.
“After thirty-one years, you’re just done?”
I looked at him for a long time.
“That’s an interesting way to describe what happened.”
“We can work through this. We can go to counseling.”
“You should.”
“I mean us.”
“No.”
He stared at me as though I had spoken a language he didn’t understand.
I think Mark had believed our thirty-one years together would protect him. That the house, the memories, the children, and the ordinary routines of our life would somehow outweigh what he had done.
