I know Piper won't be home before seven o'clock, but I've been sitting at the bar in the kitchen waiting for her to walk in the door since about six. I cooked dinner, although I can't guarantee the quality, I made vegetable soup and cornbread, both from a package. I'm hoping they soften the blow I'm going to deliver over dinner. I can't keep it in; I have to unload the burden.
When she comes in, I see the exhaustion just beneath the surface, the darkness under her eyes. Through it all, I still see the gorgeous woman I married even if she's lost a good bit of weight and her cheeks have begun to hollow. I wonder if she'll ever be able to see the man I promised her I'd be.
"Hey," she says, dropping her stuff on the counter. "What's up?"
"I made dinner." I point out like a daft duck.
She r
