He looked down at the journal on his lap, then nodded. “What did you mean, when you said Clare never loved me?”

Eileen took a sip and considered how best to proceed. “I understand this may be hurtful, and that is not my intention, not even close. But…” She sighed and gathered the will to continue. “Clare cared for you, and even told me once that if she were capable of experiencing love like that again, she believed you would be exactly the sort of person she would love. Which is why she married you. But something died in Clare…” Clare’s recent book, A Perfect Life, was sitting on the table in front of them. Eileen leaned forward, grabbed it, and quickly flipped to the dedication page. She pointed to the words on the page.

For the love of my life.

Finally, our painful truth.

“This right here,” she said and looked up into Simon’s eyes. “Do you know what this means? What is the painful truth in this book that she’s referring to?”

He stared at the words for several seconds. Eileen watched him closely, his eyes moving through Clare’s dedication several times. “When the book released, that surprised me,” he admitted. “It wasn’t what was in the final draft sent to her editor. When I called them and asked about it, they said Clare had made the last-minute change and requested they not loop me in. Honestly, I’ve read that book probably ten times through all the revisions, and again since her death… I can’t figure out what she’s pointing to.” He raised his eyes to Eileen’s. “If I’m being completely honest, I don’t recognize that story as having anything at all to do with our life. I see Clare in it, clearly, but if this book is supposed to be about us, our life, our marriage?” He shrugged. “I can’t piece it together.”

Eileen closed the cover of the book and held it in her lap. “I don’t think it’s about you.”

“But I’m her husband,” he protested.

“But you weren’t the love of her life.”

Simon’s face darkened as several thoughts and hurtful possibilities competed for attention in his head. “You think she was also having an affair?”

Eileen shook her head. “No. I don’t think Clare would do that. I don’t think there would have been any point in something like that for her.”

“Well, what then? Or rather, who?” He pulled the book from Eileen and opened it back up to Clare’s final dedication. “If it’s not about me, her husband, who was the love of her life?”

“Adam Collins.”

Simon looked confused. “Her friend…from high school?”

Eileen sat back, wide-eyed and stunned. She stared at her brother-in-law and considered exactly what his question meant. “What do you mean?” she asked.