He rubbed his forehead.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“How was it supposed to happen, Robert? Were you planning to tell me on our forty-third anniversary?”
He flinched.
“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
I almost laughed.
Harder for him?
He had been the one sneaking around. He had been the one lying about business meetings and overnight trips. He had been the one returning to our home, eating my cooking, sleeping beside me, and allowing me to believe that our marriage was intact.
Yet somehow, he was asking me not to make things difficult.
“Do you love her?” I asked.
He looked toward the window.
“I care about her.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
But it landed like a door slamming shut.
I stood up and gripped the edge of the counter.
“How long?”
