Chapters (54)
- Cover
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Epilogue
- A Note from the Author
- Discussion Questions
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Acclaim for David Rawlings
- Also by David Rawlings
More tears flushed away her seething anger. “And if we don’t, this is our future!” She thrust the photographs out to him.
With a nervous deep breath, Daniel took them, expecting the worst, the tiniest part of him hoping for the best.
He got the worst.
The first photo showed an unfamiliar reception area for a business. A group photo on the wall hung next to a different Crossroads Counseling logo than the one he’d taken great pride in signing off from the designer. The photo was a snapshot of only three people, not the proud group that had celebrated on the deck of Daniel’s cliff-top home.
Another photo. Daniel sat hunched in Gramps’s burgundy recliner in a tiny flat, the claustrophobic walls within touching distance of his chair.
Another photo. Kelly sat at an unfamiliar kitchen table set for dinner. For one. Glaring at the ceiling, the sheen of tears on her cheeks.
Daniel flicked to the next image. Kelly read a sheet of paper at this small kitchen table. The purple bank logo bled through the paper.
Daniel flipped through the photographs of his future. Photo after photo—downcast glances, distant eyes, lips set against an unhappy present. He and Kelly miserable. And each alone.
Alone.
It dawned on him. In all these photographs, it wasn’t just that they were without each other; they were without someone else.
Milly.
Daniel slumped against the sofa under the weight of unrealized grief at a loss he had not even experienced. Yet.
Kelly sat up, the back of her hand wiping away tears. “This is our future if we don’t address our problems. We need to deal with them, because if this is our future, then I’ve already left and Milly is gone. Forget your career or the dream house. If we don’t do something, it will cost us our daughter.”
Daniel reeled at the sense of impending discovery, panicked at having the edges of his buried secrets greeted by the light.
Kelly nodded to the photos in Daniel’s trembling hand. “I’m happy to talk about what I need to do, like close the bank account, but I need to know you’re happy to keep no secrets as well. And without it turning into a counseling session. Every time I’ve tried to talk to my husband, I get diagnosed. You try to fix me with your professional hat on. I know why you do it—you like to fix things, and you’re so good at it.”