Chapter 1

"Nora, take a picture of us dancing."

Paige reached across the table and put her phone beside my plate. Her other hand was already wrapped around my husband's.

My baking instructor stopped talking. He'd been asking whether I planned to come back now that Owen was well, but Paige was tugging Owen out of his chair, laughing about the song she'd just heard.

We'd gathered to celebrate his recovery. She'd barely left his side all evening.

I picked up the phone and glanced around for the photographer.

Owen caught my eye. "She's having a good time. Don't spoil it for her."

He said it quietly enough that I was the only one who could hear.

I knew what he expected. I'd asked him before why she always got the evenings he was too tired to spend with me.

Once, I'd sat across from him while he explained that Paige was lonely, that she'd been a good friend, that I was making her feel unwelcome.

I'd gone into that conversation wanting to tell him how much I missed him. I'd come out of it promising to be nicer to her.

After a while, I stopped asking him to come home earlier. If he was on the phone with her when I went to bed, I closed the bedroom door.

Last week, he'd told a friend that we were getting along better.

Paige gave his hand another pull. "Come on. We'll miss it."

My instructor shifted his chair to let them pass, then leaned toward me. "I'll send you the dates for next term. It was a shame about last time."

I thought of the call I'd made from the hospital parking lot, telling him I couldn't finish the course. Owen had been asleep in the passenger seat, too tired to drive himself home.

I'd planned to miss a few classes. Then he'd needed me the following week, and the week after that.

"She couldn't bear to leave me," Owen said with a laugh.

He was standing beside my chair, still holding Paige's hand. My instructor smiled, and Owen rested his free hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at my husband. He looked pleased with what he'd said.

"Send me the dates," I told my instructor. "I'd like to come back."

"We're going away," Paige said. "Owen promised me a trip once all this was over. You should book something for yourself, too."

"I hope you have a good time."

Owen gave my shoulder a small squeeze. I stood, slipping out from under his hand, and beckoned to the photographer.

"Would you get a few pictures of them?" I asked, passing him Paige's phone.

"Of course." He turned to Owen. "Are we still doing that last set of photos?"

"Later. I'll let you know."

Paige began explaining which angle she wanted. Owen let her lead him onto the dance floor, and I went back to my chair for my coat.

They were dancing by the time I had it on. He bent his head to hear something she said, then laughed. I headed for the doors.

"Nora."

Owen caught up before I reached them. He glanced at my coat, then back at Paige.

"Don't leave like this. I'll dance with you next."

He offered his hand. Behind him, Paige had stopped beside the photographer, watching us.

"You go ahead," I said. "I don't want to dance."

"Come on. You're really going to go home over this?"

I stepped around him. He caught my wrist.

"Do you have to do this?"

He said my name again, more gently this time. Behind him, Paige called for him to come back.

"Let go, Owen. I'm going home."

His fingers loosened, and I walked past him.

Outside the ballroom, I booked a consultation with a divorce lawyer.