My husband sent another woman a huge bouquet of white roses and pink peonies with a card signed “Love, Daniel,” and by one careless mistake, those flowers arrived at our house instead.

Chapter 1: The delivery

The arrangement was enormous, so wide that the courier’s face was almost hidden behind it. White roses nestled against pink peonies, while delicate eucalyptus spilled from brown wrapping paper secured with cream ribbon. It was no last-minute bunch picked up on the way home. Someone had chosen these flowers carefully and paid a considerable amount to make an impression.

“For me?” I asked from the doorway. The delivery man smiled. “Looks like it.” My heart lifted with an almost ridiculous rush of excitement. Eleven years into