The relief was sharp and almost painful. He was not the lover we’d imagined, nor the predator we’d feared. He was merely a man abiding by a long-ago choice, standing awkwardly in the present because our daughter had sought him out. My anger ebbed, replaced by a strange, raw ache.
Martin’s shoulders sagged. He covered his face with his hands. “All this time,” he whispered, “we thought we were losing you.” Nora leaned closer, her eyes fierce with love. “You weren’t losing me,” she said. “I just didn’t know how to bring you with me into all this.”