“Do you have anything that removes this stuff?” he asked, gesturing toward his painted face.
I fetched my micellar water and cotton pads.
“Here. Be gentle around your eyes.”
“Thank you,” he said shyly.
As he began removing the makeup, I realized something strange.
I’d never seen a clear photograph of him.
Emma’s pictures were mostly blurry campus snapshots, photographs taken from behind, or pictures of them kissing.
I’d never thought to ask for a proper portrait.
Now, watching his real face emerge, I felt an unsettling familiarity.
Then I remembered a little boy standing outside my former husband’s house, clutching a toy car while his mother argued with me.
I asked Tyler about Rebecca.
His answer confirmed my fear.
When Emma came downstairs, I immediately told her to end the relationship.
“Mom, you’re scaring me,” she said.
“His mother is Rebecca.”
“Okay?”
“Rebecca is the woman your father had an affair with.”
