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