He wasn’t flashy. He didn’t dominate a room. He didn’t need everyone to notice him.
Most importantly, he was completely mad about Sasha.
I thought she had finally found something of her own.
Something that wasn’t mine.
Something she couldn’t compare herself to.
For the first time in years, I stopped worrying about the way she looked at my husband.
Then came their anniversary weekend.
We drove over on Friday afternoon.
Dinner that evening.
A garden party on Saturday.
Thirty people expected.
Family everywhere.
Music.
Children.
Food.
Drinks.
The sort of weekend that was supposed to become one of those family memories people talked about for years.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
That was what I thought.
At dinner, Callan pulled Sasha’s chair out for her.
He did that for everybody.
He was polite like that.
Sasha sat down.
She looked at him.
Then she smiled.
