turn and smiled at the image.
“That’s Michael,” she said proudly, her voice bubbling with the kind of excitement reserved for new beginnings. “We’ve been together for three years.”
Three years. The number hit me like a physical blow. I had been married to Michael for seven. We had a mortgage. We had a dog. We had a life that I thought was solid gold.
Still, I kept smiling. It was a mask I didn’t know I was capable of wearing. I knew that if I stopped, if I let
