Natalie had few friends, wasn’t close to her family, all she had was Gabe. And yet, when she needed him, he left her hurt, alone, damaged. Why? To placate his in-laws, who didn’t respect him enough to speak his fucking language? To be there for his daughter, who’d disappeared the moment her grandparents left? Or was it to please his emotionally distant wife, who was indifferent to his presence?

Celeste walked in, looking weary from the long drive. “Hey,” she mumbled, barely looking at him. “Where’s Violet?”

“She went into the city to see that play, remember? I told her she could stay at the apartment tonight.”

“Right.” She grabbed a glass and filled it with filtered water. He watched her take a lemon from a porcelain bowl full of them and roll it on the marble surface to soften it. As she was cutting a wedge, Gabe set his sandwich down.

“We need to talk.”

Was he really going to do this? Was he going to end his twenty-nine-year marriage to be with his twenty-one-year-old sugar baby? The moment felt fantastical, dreamlike. But it also felt right. Natalie needed him. And he needed her. He needed her love, her devotion, her adoration. He deserved it.

“We do,” Celeste agreed. “Let’s sit down.”

What was happening? He was about to leave his wife, and suddenly she was hijacking the conversation. But he left his sandwich on the counter and followed her to the sofa. Celeste set her water glass on the reclaimed barn door that served as a coffee table in their casual family room and began.

“I was waiting for my parents to leave. For Violet to be out. There’s something you should know.”

“Okay . . .”

“Violet’s been harming herself.”

He felt himself go pale. “What?”

“She’s been cutting herself. And burning herself with matches.”

“Jesus, Celeste . . .” Parenting was his wife’s job—her only job. “How could you let this happen?”

“She hid it from me. Under her clothes. I think it’s the pressure of living up to our expectations . . . And I think she’s worried about me.” Celeste swallowed. “About us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she’s afraid that once she moves out, we’ll split up.” His wife’s eyes filled with tears. “She worries about my health. If the cancer comes back, and I don’t have your support . . .”

“That’s not going to happen,” Gabe said, but his words sounded hollow and false.

“And she’s afraid that, if we separate, she won’t see you. I know she doesn’t act like it, but deep down, she still adores you.” Celeste reached for his hand. “She still needs you, Gabriel. She needs you so much.”

His world tilted on its axis. Moments ago, he’d been prepared to walk away from his wife, from his daughter, from all the years they’d invested. But this changed everything. His darling girl was hurting herself, cutting and burning her skin. Because she was afraid she’d lose him. Violet still loved him, adored him, depended on him. . . . He would not abandon her and her mother; he would not be a selfish, narcissistic cliché. When he got back to the city, he would end it with Natalie. He’d be there for his family. In a weird way, Violet’s self-harm had saved her parents’ marriage.