This summer was brutal—no breeze, no clouds, just heat that made the sidewalks shimmer.
Our daughter Carlie lived in her bathing suit, splashing in her kiddie pool.
But Alex, my husband, wore long sleeves. Every. Single.
Day.At first, I thought he was self-conscious.
Then I noticed the flinches when I touched him, the locked bathroom doors,
the quiet trips to his mom’s house. One morning, while making
sandwiches, Carlie casually asked, “Do you know why Daddy is hiding his tattoo from you?”
She said it read: “My mommy Angela is my only love forever.”
