“Gavin told me you’d consented.”

“You had my phone number.”

“I was trying not to interfere.”

I looked out through the camera feed at the woman who had interfered in every dinner menu, holiday invitation, and business decision of my marriage.

“I’ll consider future contact after we have appropriate boundaries and legal advice,” I said.

“Please leave.”

She placed the flowers on the ground beside the gate and walked back to her car.

Ten minutes later Gavin texted that I was punishing his mother for loving Willa.