“The secret-- his actual infidelity-- was bad enough. But in this exact moment, the raw, ugly questions about *her*, and the extent of their relationship, ...Just last night, we'd made love. How dare he bring that woman's ghost to our bed, the sacred place where we'd been trying to conceive a child. My shoulders shook, my hands trembled. "All these nights trying for a baby. Were you thinking of her, instead of--”
Book:The Lost Apothecary