“I don’t know what our marriage is anymore,” I told him. “But I’m not making that decision today.”
Two weeks later, a car pulled into our driveway.
It was the second weekend in a row Chloe had visited.
I went outside.
My stepdaughter stepped from the car carrying something against her chest.
The cookbook.
The same one I had bought for one of her birthdays.
“I brought it,” she said.
I smiled.
“I thought maybe we could make something together.”
I opened the front door.
And we walked into the
