“I know.”
“No. Listen.”
He did.
“I am angry that you found out you had a granddaughter and decided I wasn’t entitled to know.”
He looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
We went home a day early.
Our anniversary trip ended without champagne, photographs, or the dinner reservation Robert had made for our last night.
Ariella texted me three days later.
“I hope it’s okay that I have your number. Robert gave it to me.”
I stared at that message for a long time.
Then another arrived.
“I didn’t come looking for him to ruin anything. I had already lost my dad and my grandmother. I just wanted to know if there was anyone else left.”
I called her.
We talked for nearly two hours.
Mostly about Mike.
A little about Robert.
Nothing about the state of my marriage.
