“I owe you respect,” Roy said. “I don’t owe you my marriage.”

I almost stopped breathing.

For twelve years, I’d waited to hear those words without even realizing how badly I needed them.

Margaret turned toward me, her eyes flashing.

“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

For an instant, I was tempted to gloat.

But looking at this small, furious woman in her familiar lemon-scented home, I felt only exhausted.

“I came here tonight because I thought someone was taking advantage of you,” I said. “After everything you’ve said to me over the years, I still wanted to help. I never imagined you were the one setting the trap.”

Margaret opened her mouth, but for once, she had nothing to say.

I turned toward Roy.

“I’m ready to go.”

He reached for my hand.

His palm was damp, but his grip remained steady.

We walked out together, and nobody tried to stop us.