The entire room was reduced to bare concrete, exposed framing, capped pipes, and electrical wires secured safely out of the way.
David stood in the center of it all, grinning as though he had just handed his mother a palace.
I stepped over a strip of ripped flooring, met his eyes, and smiled.
“So, David,” I said. “When you said family comes first, did you mean your mother, or did you mean everyone except me?”
That was when every trace of color disappeared from my husband’s face.
But the story really began with the suitcase.
—
Three days earlier, I was in our bedroom folding a yellow sundress into my carry-on for the anniversary trip David and I had spent an entire year saving for.
I desperately needed that trip.
So did he.
