Three weeks before our son’s wedding, I heard my husband promise another woman that I would accept their affair—as long as he let me stay his wife. "She won’t leave me, Brooke. She wouldn’t know what to do." I stopped outside the groom’s preparation room, his freshly cleaned suit over my arm. Through the opening, Mark fastened a gold necklace around his childhood best friend’s throat, then kissed her shoulder. Brooke caught his hand. "You said things would change after Luke got married." "They will. I’ll spend more time at your place. Claire can keep the house, keep her routine." My routine. Making his breakfast. Asking about his day. Waiting up when he worked late. I had thought those things made us close. He thought they made me incapable of leaving. "And when she finds out?" "She’ll be upset. Then she’ll think about what she’d lose." I had left work early to deliver a document to the wedding planner. Mark had asked me to collect his suit on the way. I’d checked every button before leaving the cleaners. He was letting me do these small, loving things while planning how much betrayal I would tolerate. I pushed the door open. "What would I lose, Mark?" He released Brooke when she stepped back. His eyes moved to the suit. "You’re early." "What would I lose?" "Claire, come inside." I stepped in, leaving the door open. Brooke touched her necklace. Its box sat beside two coffee cups. Yesterday, he had been too busy to have lunch with me. "How long have you been sleeping with her?" "Let’s not do this with the door open." He closed it. For twenty-five years, that gesture had meant privacy. Now he was making sure nobody heard me ask what he had done. Brooke picked up her purse. "I should give you two some time." "You don’t have to go," Mark said. His answer came immediately. I waited for him to offer me anything with the same certainty. "I didn’t want you finding out this way." "How did you want it? After I finished paying for the wedding?" "This has nothing to do with Luke." I lowered the suit onto a chair. "You were using his wedding as a date to start spending nights with her." Mark rubbed his forehead. "Nothing has to change overnight. You’ll have the house. Our accounts. Your security." "I have a job." "I know. I’m saying I’m not asking for a divorce." He paused, waiting for that to comfort me. I had worried about us lately. I’d suggested a weekend away, bought tickets to a concert he once wanted to see. He’d said work was exhausting him. While I tried to reach him, he had been deciding what I should settle for. "You think staying married to you is a favor?" "Consider what you actually want before you say something you can’t take back." I looked at Brooke. "Did you know I was still making plans with him?" Her eyes filled. "He said you hadn’t been happy for years." "I asked if you knew." "Don’t interrogate her," Mark said. He moved beside her. That small choice hurt enough that I gripped the chair. The door opened. "Brooke, Emma wants to know whether—" Luke stopped. For one second, relief moved through me. My son was here. He would see my face. I almost reached for him. Then he looked at his father. "Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? I thought we had until after the wedding." My hand fell. "You knew?" Luke closed the door. "Mom—" "You knew about them?" He glanced at Brooke before answering. "Dad said he was going to explain." Mark put a hand on his shoulder. "I asked him to wait. He didn’t want you hurt before the wedding." My son had known when he called about the guest rooms. When he asked me to wash his shirts. When he kissed my cheek last Sunday and took home the food I’d packed. I had been his mother through all of it. He had let me remain the only person who didn’t know what was happening to my family. "Did you tell him to stop?" "Emma’s parents are downstairs. Can we talk somewhere else?" "Did you?" He pulled away from his father’s hand. "Dad isn’t throwing you out. You’ll still have everything. Why can’t we get through the wedding first?" Everything. I looked at the son I had expected to turn toward me. He was asking me to bear it quietly so nothing would spoil his wedding. Mark lifted the suit. "Take this back. The cuff needs pressing again." He held it out, turning toward Brooke. For years, my hands would have reached automatically. Even angry, I would have taken it. I left his hand suspended between us. "How long have you known, Luke?" My son looked at his father. "Don’t look at him," I said. "Answer me."