DAPHNE

“Your wife was having an affair?”

“She was.”

“I’m so sorry.” I plant my palms against Weston’s chest, his hands on either side of my neck, his thumbs brushing against my jaw.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. It was my fault; I don’t blame her at all. In her defense, she tried to get me to choose her instead of work. She begged me to be more present, to be a better husband.”

“But she didn’t leave?”

He shakes his head. ...