“Which means somebody told him almost the moment you signed.”
I stared out the window at the green highway signs flashing past.
Cincinnati 62.
Columbus 155.
“I know,” I said a third time.
PART 4
I didn’t call Lauren right away.
I want to be honest about that. For almost an hour, I sat in the passenger seat of Rachel’s car with my phone in my lap and Lauren’s name glowing at the top of my favorites, and I didn’t touch it.
Part of me was afraid of what she’d say.
A bigger part of me was afraid of what I would say.
For twenty-seven years, I’d been the peacekeeper in my family. The one who smoothed things over. The one who apologized first, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong, because it was easier than watching Mark go cold and silent for three days. I’d taught my children, without ever meaning to, that love meant keeping everyone comfortable.
