The Person Who Walked Into That Diner Knew My Husband’s Secret

while he buttoned his shirt, I couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Who is she?”

He glanced down at the tattoo and laughed.

“Nobody.”

“Come on.”

“Seriously.”

“The artist made her up when I was nineteen.”

“Just a practice design.”

He kissed my forehead before I could ask anything else.

I accepted the explanation.

Because that’s what people in love do.

They trust.

Years continue reading …