Wasn’t like me to be jealous. Sure, I’d punished Hayword a good ten years for f*****g some bimbo on the day we buried my son, but that wasn’t jealousy. That was fury. I knew Mark loved me, and he wasn’t the cheating kind.
End of story.
Of course, Hayword hadn’t been the cheating kind either.
No! Wasn’t the same thing. Mark and I were committed to one another. We lived together. Most of the time. He still had his house. He usually stayed there when he had his son, Ian. Ian liked my house, but it was away from all of his sports and his friends. He came over now more often, now that the restaurant was almost open.
Sunday was opening day. That’s when everything would change. Again. The restaurant had been turning our lives a bit upside down for the last year. Sometimes I thought Mark was d
