tightened.
“Why?”
Dr. Rivers looked tired.
“He said you’d understand when you needed it.”
It was infuriatingly vague, which was very Mark.
I took the envelope.
“Why?”
My name was written across the front in his messy handwriting.
“Sally.”
That was all.
Dr. Rivers hesitated.
“He also said you didn’t have to open it today.”
I almost laughed.
My name was written across the front.
“That’s generous of him.”
He gave me a sad smile.
Then I walked away carrying the last secret my husband had kept from me.
***
Two months earlier, secrets hadn’t been part of our marriage.
Baby names were.
“That’s generous of him.”
“Absolutely not,” I’d told Mark.
“You rejected it too fast.”
“You suggested Clementine.”
We were sitting on our porch, his hand resting on my six-month belly.
“It’s a strong name.”
“You rejected it too fast.”
“For an orange.”
Mark laughed.
Even then, the sound
