Later that evening, Keaton was doing his homework in his bedroom and Whitney and I were baking in the kitchen. My parents had gone out to dinner with friends, so we had the house to ourselves. Outside, the wind was whistling against the windows, and the temperatures continued to drop, but inside it was warm and cozy, and the kitchen smelled delicious.

Whitney was more cheerful and talkative than she’d been this afternoon, and I was enjoying her stories about new friends at school, a cute boy from her English class, what color she wanted to paint her room at the new house, what she wanted to name the horse we were planning to purchase. It was just the kind of evening I’d envisioned for our new life.

“Mom, can I ask you something?” Whitney kept her eyes on the mixing bowl as she added more powdered sugar to the frosting.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t Aunt April ever get married or have kids?”

“I guess she never met the right person.”

“But she’s so pretty.”

I smiled. “It’s not just about looks, honey. You have to find someone you can be your real self around. Someone who finds you beautiful inside and out.”

“Does she want to get married?”

“I think so. But it’s not always easy to find the someone. And sometimes you do, but it doesn’t work out.”

“Where did you meet Daddy?” she asked.

“In Chicago. I was in college and he was working there at the time.”

“Were you in love?”

I thought carefully about how to answer. “We were back then. Yes.”

“Is that why you got married?”

I looked down at my left hand, recalling the moment Brett had slipped the diamond solitaire on my fourth finger and asked me to be his wife. In all honesty, I’d been torn—my plan had always been to travel after college. But I’d been in love with Brett, and he’d made me all sorts of promises about the beautiful life we’d have together if I’d marry him and move to California, where an executive position waited for him at his family’s investment firm. He said he loved me. He said I’d have everything I could possibly want. He said he’d do anything to have me . . . except wait.

Being twenty-two, blinded by love, and dazzled by the dream life he dangled in front of my eyes, I’d said yes. I’d believed him. I’d done everything he’d asked, including set my own dreams aside, and followed him across the country, where we did indeed build a beautiful life—on the surface.

But I couldn’t say that to Whitney.