But I didn’t.

The door swung open. The air hit me first. Thick, warm, carrying the scent of his cologne, Santal 33, mixed with something floral and young. Her perfume. The one I’d complimented just three weeks ago when she’d worn it to our Sunday brunch. “What a lovely fragrance,” I’d said, smiling at her across the table while my daughter beamed beside her best friend. I was so happy we all got along so well.