My breath caught.
Emily wrote that she was planning to separate from Marcus.
She had found evidence that he’d been seeing another woman.
She had spoken to an attorney and was arranging a place to live with the children.
“I love Marcus,” she’d written, “but I can’t be with him anymore after the affair.”
The letter was dated six days before her accident.
I looked at my son. “You had an affair?”
He lowered his eyes. “Yes.”
The kitchen went completely quiet.
“How long?”
“For seven months.”
“And she was leaving you?”
Marcus rubbed his face.
“We were talking about it.”
“She wrote that she’d hired an attorney.”
“That doesn’t mean she’d decided.”
I put the letter between us. “Don’t tell me what Emily meant. She’s not here to correct you.”
His face hardened, but he said nothing.
Emily had died on a rainy Friday afternoon, driving home from an appointment across town.
