Emma rushed upstairs and changed into her red bikini, the one Hunter John liked, but when she came back down, they hadn’t waited. The pool was right off the tiled family room, so she walked out and to the balustrade that looked over the lawn below. Hunter John and the boys were playing in the yard, their hair already wet with sweat. It was seven-thirty in the evening but still light and still sweltering. Summer was a lady who didn’t give up her spotlight easily. Emma understood that. She liked summer. The boys were home, and there was so much daylight that there was still time to do things with Hunter John when he got home from work.

There was no sense in getting her hair wet if Hunter John wasn’t going to watch her swim, so she put on a sarong and cheered on the boys from the patio. She couldn’t wait for football season. Going to the high-school games, sitting in front of the television on Sunday afternoons and Monday nights. It was something they did together as a family, something that Sydney had never done with Hunter John. Sydney had gone to football games when Hunter John played, but she didn’t really like the game. Emma loved it. She loved it because he loved it. But Hunter John gave up the game when he didn’t go to Notre Dame. He gave it up because of her.

When the sun began to set, Emma brought out a pitcher of lemonade. Soon, the boys and Hunter John made their way up to the pool.

“Lemona—” she said, but before she could finish, the boys had jumped in the pool to cool off.

Emma shook her head indulgently. Hunter John was walking toward her. She smiled and held a glass out. “Lemona—”

She didn’t even get the word out before he passed her and walked into the house. He hadn’t said a word to her since the incident in his office that afternoon.

She didn’t want the boys to know anything was wrong, so she waited for them to play in the water awhile, then got them towels and made them get out. She shooed them to their rooms to change and watch television, then she went to find Hunter John.

He was in their steam shower, so Emma lifted herself to sit on the bathroom counter facing the stall and waited for him to come out.

When the door opened and he emerged, her breath caught. He could still do this to her. He was so beautiful. He had just washed his hair, and she could see how much it was thinning, but that didn’t matter to her. She loved him so much.

“We need to talk,” she said. “I need to know why you never want to discuss Sydney.”