Sharon.
The first time I ever heard that name was months earlier, when Grace was still early in her pregnancy.
One evening we had invited her and Bill to dinner, but Grace showed up alone.
“Bill had to stay late at work,” she said with a strained smile.
Frank casually asked what project was keeping him so busy.
Grace suddenly burst into tears.
At first I assumed it was pregnancy hormones. But then she spoke through sobs.
“I think Bill is cheating on me,” she said.
She told us about his late nights and constant messages with a coworker named Sharon.
I held her and told her not to jump to conclusions.
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