“That’s what I want.”

We finished our coffee without discussing Daniel’s punishment or imagining his humiliation.

I’d spent enough of my life making him the center of the story.

When we parted, Vanessa asked whether it would be inappropriate to send the children a Christmas card next year.

“I think that’s a decision for them and me,” I said kindly.

“They don’t need every adult from that evening becoming part of their lives.”

She understood.