For a long time, neither of us spoke. I kept looking at Ryan, trying to reconcile the man sitting across from me with the story I had just told.
Twelve years of marriage, and somehow I never got close to the truth.
Finally, I asked the question that had been bothering me since the bakery.
Ryan’s expression darkened immediately. He already knew the answer.
“She thought I still blamed her.”
“Really?”
A painful smile appeared.
“So? Of course.”
He leaned back in the chair.
