My former husband.
The father of my children.
And the man who had spent the past several years transforming every difficulty in my life into proof, at least in his mind, that I had somehow deserved the way things turned out.
His message was short, yet the tone behind it was unmistakable. He explained that his cousin was getting married at a luxury hotel along the waterfront, and that he thought it might be “nice” if I came. Then he added that I could bring the boys if I wished, as though my children were simply decorative accessories meant to enhance whatever scene he had planned for the evening.
Even before I finished reading, I understood exactly what he was trying to accomplish.
He wanted witnesses.
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