I always laughed with him, thinking he meant it affectionately.
There was also Daniel’s mother, Margaret.
She wasn’t openly cruel. She didn’t need to be. One look from her was enough to make you feel as if you were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
I received that look often.
Not long after Daniel and I got engaged, she pulled me aside at a family dinner.
“You seem like a very nice young woman, Claire,” she said carefully, “but my son has always had significant opportunities ahead of him.”
Her meaning was clear enough: she didn’t believe I was good enough for him.
In some ways, I understood her attitude.
Margaret had built a very successful company with her late husband. Daniel was set to inherit it one day, so naturally she was protective.
Still, her silent disapproval always hurt.
Even with Margaret watching from the sidelines and Daniel spending long hours chatting with Lily, I believed our marriage was solid.
Then one afternoon, Daniel packed a bag and told me he was leaving.
“What do you mean?” I asked, stunned. “We’ve been married for twenty years, Daniel.”
He shrugged casually.
“I met someone.”
He said it as if he were leaving for a weekend trip.
“Someone?”
Daniel sighed impatiently.
“Claire, our relationship has run its course. You stopped trying years ago. Do you even own anything that isn’t yoga pants or stained sweats?”
I stared at him.
“I’m raising eight kids, Daniel.”
He rolled his eyes.
“That doesn’t change the point. The woman I’m in love with actually wants to look beautiful for me.”
The word woman struck me strangely, though I couldn’t immediately explain why.
“Who is she?” I asked.
His expression hardened.
“That’s not important.”
I grabbed his arm.
“Daniel. Who is she? Is it someone I know?”
He exhaled sharply.
“Fine. If you really want to know… it’s Lily.”
For a moment I didn’t understand.
“Lily?” I repeated slowly. “Mark’s daughter?”
