CHAPTER 7
Two days later, a gentle Sunday morning rain tapped softly against the glass windows of my oceanfront living room as I sat drinking hot tea.
The house had been completely cleaned, the carpets scrubbed, and the hand-stitched curtains Henry and I loved were hanging perfectly beside the sparkling windows.
A soft knock echoed at the front door, making me set my mug down on the wooden coffee table before walking calmly toward the foyer.
I opened the door to find Robert standing on the covered porch, wearing a soaked light rain jacket, looking thoroughly defeated and exhausted.
He was alone; there was no sign of Megan, her luxury SUV, or her expensive designer sunglasses anywhere in the long driveway.
"Mom," Robert whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion I hadn't heard from him since he was a little boy playing on the beach. "Can I please come in for just five minutes? I need to talk to you."
I looked at my son—the boy I had carried through feverish nights, the child whose scraped knees I had bandaged while working sixty hours a week.
I stepped aside without saying a word, allowing him to walk into the quiet, warm foyer he had almost helped his wife steal away from me.
May you like
He pulled off his wet jacket, hanging it carefully on the coat rack, looking around the living room as if seeing his childhood home for the very first time.
"She left me, Mom," Robert said softly, dropping his head into his hands as tears began to stream down his tired, weathered face.
