The Night Before Our Wedding, I Heard What He Really Thought of Me

who picked up her children in the dark, who drove until the sun came up, and who refused—quietly, completely, permanently—to fold.

Sophie climbed into my lap, smelling like tomato sauce and sunshine-yellow paint. “Mommy,” she said, “I like our house.”

“I like it too, baby.”

“It’s small,” she said, with the honest assessment of a five-year-old who has continue reading …