harder than any admission of an affair ever could have. I pushed my chair back from the table.
“You said our daughter’s name to a stranger. For 10 years. While I sat in our bedroom by myself, wondering why you stopped talking about her.”
“I tried, Liv. Every time I started, you would leave the room. Or cry. Or go quiet for days.”
“So you replaced me.”
“I survived,” he corrected. “And I hated myself for needing to.”
I stood. “The second bracelet,” I snapped. “Don’t tell me it was
