The picture showed Mark.
Beside him stood Tania.
Between them was a little girl.
Maybe three.
Dark curls.
Pink coat.
She was holding Mark’s hand.
And she had his eyes.
I knew before Lauren asked.
“Who is this child?”
Mark looked sick.
“Lauren.”
“Who?”
His eyes filled.
“My daughter.”
Lauren stared at him.
I heard someone behind me gasp.
She looked down at the photograph.
Then back at her husband.
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Three and a half.”Download Reference Apps
My stomach dropped.
Three and a half.
Lauren had spent four years trying to have a baby.
Four years of doctors.
Two miscarriages.
Three failed treatments.
And somewhere inside those years, her husband had fathered a child with another woman.
Lauren seemed to do the same calculation.
“No.”
Mark reached toward her.
She pulled away.
“No.”
“It happened once.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“You cheated on me?”
