People called me afterward. Some apologized. Some asked why I hadn’t told them sooner. Some wanted details, because scandal makes even sympathetic people hungry.

I learned to say very little.

“I’m healing,” I told them. That was the only sentence most of them deserved.

Melinda wrote me a letter. I left it unopened for three days. When I finally read it, she said Connor had told her the marriage was over long before it was.

She said he’d told her I was cold. She said he’d told her I didn’t want a child as badly as he did. She said she believed him, because believing him let her feel chosen instead of cruel.

Near the end there was one line where her handwriting changed. I knew more than I let myself know.