I asked casually, "Is Silvana coming?"
"Of course," he said.
I pressed my thumb against the inside of my wedding ring and turned it slowly. One full rotation. "Fine then. I'll come with you tomorrow."
If they wanted to apologize, it had better not be just to me.
The next day, when Simone pulled up in the black sedan, Silvana Ricci was in the passenger seat.
She turned to look at me as I opened the rear door, and she gave me a smile that was all surface, all practiced warmth. Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat, resting there for just a moment. "Sorry, Grazia. I get carsick. Must be the pregnancy, you know, so I had to sit up front."
I smiled back faintly. "Sure."
When I hadn't been considering divorce, I might have felt something about my husband's first love sitting beside him, her hand resting near his on the center console, her perfume filling the car. But now, whatever they did just stopped bothering me. The sting was gone. In its place was something flat and clear, like the surface of water after the wind dies.