There it was.
The old trap.
I could accept David’s proposition and make the best of it, or refuse and forever be labeled as the ungrateful wife who ruined his anniversary surprise.
It wasn’t really a choice, was it?
The old trap.
I glanced at the brochure again.
Ten days. Sand between my toes.
Maybe my husband would remember that I existed.
Maybe I’d remember, too.
« Fine, » I whispered. « She can come. »