My Husband Brought His Mistress in My Dress

looking suddenly seventeen.

“Tired?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Scared?”

“A little.”

I nodded.

“Me too.”

He looked at me then, and there was that same quiet watchfulness he’d had as a child, the one James mistook for distance.

“We’re going home?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Behind us, somewhere down the hall, I heard raised voices and the clipped rhythm of police questions. Ahead continue reading …