I woke in a bed that didn’t smell like my life.
It smelled like cedar and paint thinner, skin and aftershave—like him.
Julian’s side of the bed was warm but empty. The sheets beside me were tangled, holding the ghost of his body. The green dress lay in a careless heap on the floor. My heels were near the nightstand. My stomach twisted. One night. One kiss. And yet, the impact reverberated through me as though I had shattered every part of the careful life I had constructed.
I tried to steady myself, pulling the sheet closer to my chest.
I thought if Max, my husband, and guilt, flared, sharp and hot in me. His name was a tether I could no longer ignore. I had cheated. Not just physically, but emotionally, with every part of my body that had cried out for Julian’s touch. And worse, I ha
