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.

were full; he’d apologized, and I’d meant it when I said it was fine. Had Laura existed then? I hated not knowing. “Did you ever send me flowers like those?”

“That’s not the point.” I conceded, “You’re right.” and said “The point is you sent them to her.”

Laura called again. After it stopped, a message appeared: Are you okay? The florist called me and said… Daniel grabbed the phone, too late. “She knows.” He tried “Claire.”

“The florist called her.” His expression was trapped rather than guilty. “Answer her.”