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.

done.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It is exactly what you’re doing.”

Daniel asked, “Do you want details that are going to live in your head forever?” To our mutual surprise I said, “No.” I didn’t want explicit images lodged in my memory. I wanted something simpler and harder to obtain. “No, I don’t want details. I want truth.” He insisted, “I’m telling you.”

I moved to the planned trip. “Then tell me about this weekend.” “Was the conference real?”

“Yes.”

“Was Laura going?”

“Yes.” Then I asked, “Were you