He had dark, slightly messy hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build from years of competitive swimming. He was polite, intelligent, and occasionally sarcastic in a way that reminded me of Tom when we had first met.
But unlike my husband, Jake hadn’t yet learned to hide every emotion behind a carefully controlled expression.
He laughed loudly.
He asked difficult questions.
And when something bothered him, I could usually see it in his face.
During the first week, everything was normal.
I showed him where we kept the groceries, helped him organize his college paperwork, and made sure he knew how to use the washing machine.
We ate dinner together most evenings.
Sometimes Tom joined us. Other times, he was on the phone with clients or working late in his home office.
Then I began noticing little things.
Nothing I could point to as proof of anything.
A glance that lasted a second too long.
