Mara’s POV
I caught my boyfriend f*****g someone in our bed forty minutes ago.
Saw her face, his bare ass, the way he whispered baby to a woman who wasn't me. Then I took my keys and drove to his father's house with mascara running down my face and rage burning the tears dry.
Garrett opens the door and every thought in my head goes quiet for a second because this man has no right looking the way he does at fifty-one. Silver threading through dark hair that's pushed back from his face.
Dress shirt rolled to his forearms showing veins and tan skin. A jaw that his younger son inherited. He fills a doorway the way his son never could, broad and solid, and I've spent two years of family dinners pretending I don't notice the way his shoulders strain his shirts.
He takes one look at my face
