It started with music.

Soft jazz played low in the background, humming through the quiet house after the guests had left. The lights were dim. Champagne glasses sat abandoned on tables. The smell of cake and perfume lingered in the air.

I was alone in the living room, heels kicked off, my red satin dress sliding up my thighs as I leaned back on the couch. My daughter’s anniversary party had gone well—until she’d excused herself to put the baby down over an hour ago.

Noah, her ...