My mother-in-law pointed at the door during New Year’s dinner and snapped, **“If you don’t like my rules, get out!”** – Welcome

to clean it up.”

He squeezed my hand.

“I miss those days. When everything felt new and exciting.”

“Me too,” I said. “But we can’t go back, Dave. We can only move forward. Together.”

He nodded.

“I want to be better, Felicity. For you, for the kids. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

I believed he meant it.

That didn’t erase what had happened.

Trust wouldn’t continue reading …