He looked down.
“I typed dozens of messages over the years.”
His voice shook.
“I deleted every one before I could press send. Every time I picked up my phone, I heard his words telling me you’d be happier without me.”
My knees gave out.
Before I hit the floor, Andrew caught me.
For the first time in years, my son held me. I buried my face against his shoulder and sobbed.
“You didn’t leave because of me.”
“I never wanted to. I thought you stopped loving me.”
He hugged me tighter.
“I never stopped.”
I cried harder than I had the day my first husband died, because grief was one thing. This was years of love stolen by a lie.
Behind us, Marcus finally spoke.
“I did what I thought was best.”
Andrew let go of me.
Slowly, we both turned to face him.
“What was best?” I asked.
