no longer about my anger.
It was about her.
“Jennifer.”
My voice came out low.
Jennifer froze.
The wineglass paused halfway to her lips. Slowly, she turned, and in the instant her eyes found mine, every trace of color left her face.
The glass slipped slightly in her hand, red wine trembling against crystal.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
Emma’s hands went still beneath the water.
She didn’t turn right away. For one heartbreaking second, she stood completely motionless, as though she was afraid to believe what she had heard.
Then she looked over her shoulder.
Her eyes met mine.
There were a thousand things in them.
Shock.
Fear.
Hope.
And something that broke me completely.
Shame.
As if she had been caught doing something wrong.
As if this humiliation belonged to her.
“Emma,” I said.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Jennifer recovered first. She set the glass down
