Emily lowered her eyes when she heard that.

“That’s why I confronted her,” she said quietly.

“That night.

I wanted her to admit it before the wedding.

I thought if I came to you with just my word, you’d say I was jealous, so I went to get her to say it out loud where I could record it.” And there it was, laid bare: my daughter had walked into a dangerous woman’s reach and gotten hurt for it, not because she was reckless, but because I had made her believe that my word alone would never be enough for me — that she would have to bring me a confession on tape before I’d choose her over the woman with the soup and the coffee.

The guilt of that was worse than the anger at Rebecca.