Eileen nodded and did as she was told, crossing over the plush Persian rug and around the taut, cream-colored leather sofas and chairs to the double-doored family lounge. Inside, there was only one other person, an elderly woman with a lap filled with knitting and a steaming cup of something on the coffee table in front of her. At the back of the room, a coffee and tea bar was set up along with dome-covered plates of pastries and bagels. The woman looked up at Eileen, smiled, and then returned her attention to her creation.

Eileen found a sunny seat near the plate-glass window overlooking a lush, well-manicured lawn and geometric flower beds filled with an assortment of bright yellow and orange mums. She placed her tote on the couch next to her and dug through its depths, past her planner, receipts, two hairbrushes, the manila envelope with the photos of her husband fucking Lauren Andrews, half a pack of gum, a wrinkled and yet unsigned parent permission form for a field trip Ryan’s class was supposed to be taking to the Museum of Nature and Science—“Shit,” she whispered—until she found her phone at the very bottom. She pulled it out to check the clock. She needed to make sure Henry would have enough time to get her back to the house before all the professionals showed up to plan Clare’s funeral… and apparently the public relations that would be required. Eileen sighed. She had always known Clare’s life was different, but she was only now beginning to realize what an entirely different planet from Eileen’s her sister had been living on.

She had missed three calls, one from Eric and two from Paige. Just seeing his name on her screen made her heart beat hard, her palms sweat. She could feel the rage bubble up fast, like roiling lava right at the base of her sternum. Thinking about Eric, what he had done, what he was still doing. With all she did for him? Their family? Every goddamn day of her life and he had the audacity to betray her?

She couldn’t breathe—the embarrassment, the shame she felt imagining Lauren thinking—what?—that she was better than Eileen, that she had won something, some goddamn Eric contest that Eileen didn’t even know she was competing in?

She felt so fucking stupid.

But why? Why should she feel stupid? When he was the one who… It wasn’t like she had known.

How could she have fucking known?

Should she have known?

Eileen stared at her phone and considered what would very likely happen, what she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from saying, if she called Eric back right now.

She texted her daughter instead.

Everything okay?

Within seconds, Paige responded.

Ya. Just checking on you.

As good as can be expected. Getting ready to see Grandma and tell her the news.

Paige sent her a tear-faced emoji and: