Zane was my safest place. We had survived money problems, family losses, and the kind of grief that either breaks a marriage or binds it tighter. So when he got cancer, I told myself what I had told myself through every other storm.
We would get through it.
Two days before he died, he reached into the drawer beside his bed and handed me a sealed envelope.
We did not.
Two days before he died, he reached into the drawer beside his bed and handed me a sealed envelope.
A woman’s name was written on the front.
Not mine.
I looked at it, then at him. « Who is she? »
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