“I want to show Mommy,” she says of the nightgown Helen gave her.

“She sees it,” I say.

“I want Mommy,” she says.

“I know. She loved you very much, Aubrey. You were everything she ever wanted.”

She leans against my chest, and we look at more photos. And as I sit there holding her, I think about the time I sat in that very chair and how my life vanished right before my eyes.

Nothing invites my prying eyes more than a folder on a computer marked “Personal.” That’s a goddamn fact. I’ll bet that every time that a person with computing problems brings a device in to the Geek Squad or Office Depot, the first thing techs do is look for the “good stuff.”

I know I would.

The discovery of such a folder is what led me to the emails between Sophie and her lover. She used the computer for work stuff when she needed to get some designs done and didn’t want to spend the night at the office. During her pregnancy and even more so in the months after Aubrey was born, there was less of that, of course. Sophie, who’d been scattered and unreliable, was suddenly a new person. She had a focus on our family. At the time, I figured it was the natural course of things. A baby. A family. New priorities. No more late nights out. No overnight convention trips.

Just the three of us.

What an idiot I was. An imperfect idiot, I admit. When Sophie drifted, I found myself in the sack with Carrie LaCroix. It wasn’t for any reason other than that I felt like I was being ignored. Big baby me. Bigger idiot. Carrie was ultimately far more trouble than she was worth. She literally screwed me over in every sense of the word.

I found Sophie’s secret stash of emails when I was looking for my AmEx year-end report for our taxes. I wonder how many people wish they could unring a bell. I do. I feel that way right now when I think of that Saturday afternoon when I noticed that she had left her Gmail open and I clicked on a folder marked “Personal.”

I sat there almost unable to breathe. Seriously. Sure, I didn’t have clean hands myself, but Carrie was nothing to me. This guy. This guy, whose name was only an email address, was more than some dude my wife fucked. The words they used were like shrapnel in my eyes.

Soul mate.

Love of my life.

Never felt such a connection.

I love your body, but I love your being even more.

I’m lonely when I’m without you.

The allness of you consumes me.

Your touch heals me.

I feel you inside me even when I’m away from you.

God, I can’t live without you.

Is it wrong that we feel this way?