I was chopping vegetables when my four-year-old daughter

a pale face.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “There’s a man at the front desk asking for Melissa Parker. He says he’s her husband.”

My eyes fly open.

Andrew.

Dr. Heller’s jaw tightens.

“Keep him in the waiting room.”

“He’s not alone.”

The receptionist’s voice drops.

“His mother is with him.”

Emma makes a tiny sound, not quite a cry.

She buries her face in my side.

“No,continue reading …