For a moment, I honestly believed my husband had to be joking.
I stared at Callum, waiting for him to laugh.
But his expression remained completely serious.
He was sitting opposite me at our kitchen table, his cellphone turned facedown beside him.
Our five-year-old son, Kieran, had gone to sleep barely twenty minutes earlier.
Callum had just finished reading his favorite dinosaur book three times because Kieran refused to settle for anything less.
He had tucked our little boy into bed.
Then he’d returned to the kitchen, kissed my cheek, and handed me a generous slice of pecan pie.
Everything had seemed perfectly ordinary.
Until he sat down and calmly announced that our marriage was about to become something I had never agreed to.
I could only stare.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Maggie. I’m not planning to leave you.”
I blinked.
“You’ve just admitted you’re in love with another woman. How exactly am I supposed to interpret that?”
“I still have feelings for you.”
“That doesn’t make what you’re saying any less painful.”
Callum leaned back in his chair.
“I’ve spent a lot of time figuring out how we can make this work.”
Somehow, that statement hurt almost as much as hearing Elena’s name.
Because it meant this wasn’t a sudden confession.
He had been making plans.
Without me.
“How long has this been happening?” I asked.
He looked toward the kitchen window.
“Callum. Answer me.”
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He hesitated.
“A couple of months.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“And during those months, what exactly have you been planning?”
