Chapter 6: Dana
My mother looked up from the couch when I walked in.
Lily was asleep on her chest.
"There she is," my mother said softly.
"How do you feel?"
"Dana texted me."
My mother's expression didn't change.
"The woman?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"That she thinks we need to talk."
My mother was quiet for a moment.
"Do you want to?"
I sat down in the chair across from her.
"I don't know.
Part of me wants to know everything.
Part of me thinks knowing everything will just make it worse."
"Both of those things are probably true."
I looked at my phone.
"She said 'I think we need to talk.' Not 'I'm sorry.' Not 'I want to explain.' She said we need to talk.
Like she has something to tell me."
My mother shifted Lily gently.
"Then maybe she does."
I typed back: *"Okay.
When?"*
Dana replied within two minutes.
*"Are you free this afternoon?
I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere neutral."*
I looked at my mother.
"Go," she said.
"I'm here all day."
We met at a coffee shop six blocks away.
I got there first and chose a corner table, my back to the wall.
Dana arrived seven minutes later.
She was younger than me by maybe five years, dark-haired, well-dressed, and visibly nervous.
She sat down and wrapped both hands around the coffee cup she'd ordered at the counter.
"Thank you for meeting me," she said.
"You said we needed to talk."
"Yes." She looked at the table.
"I didn't know about you.
Not at first.
He told me he was separated."
Something shifted in my chest.
"When did you find out the truth?"
"About six weeks in.
I saw a photo on his phone — you and him, and you were very pregnant.
I confronted him.
He said it was complicated.
That you'd grown apart.
That he was staying for the baby but the marriage was effectively over." She looked up.
"I believed him.
I shouldn't have, but I did."
"When did it end?"
"Three weeks ago.
He ended it.
But not because he'd decided to be honest with you." She paused.
"Because I told him I was going to contact you myself if he didn't come clean."
I stared at her.
"He ended it because you threatened to tell me."
"Yes."
"Not because he felt guilty.
Not because he wanted to fix things."
"I don't think so.
No."
I sat with that for a moment.
The coffee shop hummed around us.
Someone laughed at the counter.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you deserve to know the full picture." She met my eyes.
"And because I'm not the person he told you I was.
I'm not proud of what I did.
But I was lied to too."
I believed her.
I didn't want to, but I did.
"Does he know you contacted me?" I asked.
"No."
I nodded slowly.
"Thank you for telling me."
She stood to leave, then stopped.
"For what it's worth — the way you handled last night, in that waiting room.
He told me about it.
He was angry.
But the way he described it, I thought—" She stopped.
"You're stronger than he deserves."
She left before I could respond.
I sat alone at the corner table for a long time.
Ethan hadn't ended the affair out of guilt or love or any desire to repair what we had.
He'd ended it because he was cornered.
And then he'd come home that morning and told me it was over — like he'd made a noble choice.
I paid for my coffee and walked home.
My mother was waiting at the door.
She read my face before I said a word.
"That bad?" she asked.
"Worse," I said.
"He lied about why he ended it."
She stepped aside to let me in.
"Then you have a clearer picture now."
"Yes," I said.
"I do."
I picked up my phone and called the one person I'd been avoiding calling.
May you like
My sister.
Who happened to be a family law attorney.
