I caught my husband texting with his coworker

them over, and keeps stealing glances at Lisa with pure adoration.

I want to scream.

Instead, I serve dinner.

The table is set, candles lit, pasta steaming. I pour wine for the adults, top off the kids’ juice boxes, and watch as everyone takes their places.

“Hope you’re all hungry,” I chirp.

“This looks amazing,” Mark says. “You really didn’t have to go continue reading …