and incomplete stories.
If Daniel had something to tell me, he needed to tell me directly.
That evening, he sat beside me on the couch.
“Claire, there’s something I need to explain.”
I turned off the television.
“All right.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Some of the nights I’ve stayed out, I haven’t been with Mark.”
I felt my heart begin to pound.
“Who have you been with?”
He looked away.
“A woman from work.”
I remained still.
He continued quickly.
“Her name is Rebecca. We work in the same
