Looking back now, the signs were there for a long time.
My husband’s best friend, Mark, frequently visited us. He usually brought his daughter, Lily, with him.
Lily practically grew up in our house. She was the flower girl at our wedding. She was eight when our first child was born, and by the time our fourth child came along, she was old enough to babysit occasionally.
Lily practically grew up in our house.
Our kids adored her. As our family grew, Lily was like an older sister to them.
And somewhere along the way, Daniel started paying a little too much attention to her. She’d come over with Mark, and the three of them would sit together on the back porch while the younger kids played in the yard.
“Who is she?”
Something shifted in his face. “That’s not important.”
I grabbed his elbow. “Daniel. Who is she? Is it someone I know?”
“The woman I’m in love with always wants to look beautiful for me.”
Daniel looked at me with that sharp, impatient expression he’d been wearing a lot lately. “Fine. If you really want to know, it’s Lily.”
“Lily?” It took me a minute before the full weight of what he’d just said hit me. “Not Mark’s daughter, Lily?”
His silence was all the confirmation I needed