The call ended two minutes later.

A photograph.

I pulled it out.

It was Corinne in a hospital bed.

Her face was pale.

Her hair was damp and pushed back from her forehead.

Owen was lying against her chest, wrapped in a blue-and-white hospital blanket.

But it was not the smile I recalled from our wedding picture.

Tired.

Lonely.

Beside the bed was an empty chair.

On the back of the photograph, Corinne had written the date and time.

2:14 a.m.

I knew where I was at 2:14 then.

A hotel room in Atlanta.

With Tessa.

Beneath the photograph was one final note.

When you see these statements, you’ll understand everything.

I read the sentence twice.

And for the first time, I wondered if Corinne had known about Tessa before Owen was even born.

Chapter 2: The night I missed my son’s birth

I lied about Owen’s birth so many times that eventually I started remembering the lie instead of the truth.