He had introduced him to business contacts.
Eventually, Nathan became one of his personal attorneys.
But their relationship had remained private.
No family gatherings.
No public acknowledgment.
No birthday celebrations together.
Nathan had accepted those conditions because, according to him, he had never wanted to destroy my marriage.
I wasn't sure whether that made me grateful or furious.
"Did you ever ask him to tell me?" I asked.
Nathan nodded.
"Many times."
"What did he say?"
"That he would."
I stared at him.
"He always said he would."
Nathan's voice softened.
"He was afraid of losing you."
I looked down at my wedding ring.
Forty-eight years.
Almost half a century.
I had worn that ring every day.
Even while washing dishes.
Even while gardening.
Even during the years when Thomas and I could barely afford groceries.
"He should have been more afraid of lying to me," I whispered.
Nathan said nothing.
