small suitcase in hand, her ey
d, her voice a little too sweet. She didn't call me Mrs
er, taking her bag,
ch Miller's girl,
iscing about high school, about he
tea, a faint s
was a fr
ered the
ly hanging curtains in the nursery
t steady. He' d been distracted,
dramatic," he'd said later, when t
ieve. He said my s
cam
ed, a perfect baby boy.
f love I had left into
ten
Old letters between Mark a
e a child then, bad t
't want t
ey us
their son, thinkin
sn't just an affair; it was the
ly led by Tiffany' s p
viper, cloaked
fortable in my home, a co
as the same weak
were
smirk playing on her lips. "You
y smile unwavering. "Lo
et compliance. I could se
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