“I don’t know yet, sweetheart. But you did the right thing telling me.”
I kissed her forehead and stood, my legs unsteady. Down at the water, Bruce laughed at something Jim said, then clapped him on the shoulder. The picture of an easy afternoon.
I looked away before either of them could catch my eye.
That evening, I moved through dinner like a woman underwater. I laughed when Lily giggled about the ice cream on her nose. I nodded when Bruce asked if I wanted more wine. Inside, my mind was flipping through a stack of small moments I had ignored.
My smile felt like a mask.
The late-night phone calls Bruce took on the balcony. Jim’s constant glances at his screen. The morning Bruce slipped out alone for coffee and came back an hour later, saying the line had been long.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Bruce said, reaching for my hand across the table.
“Just tired.”
He squeezed my fingers.
