I smiled on the day my husband finalized our divorce and married the woman he had been seeing behind my back while I was eight months pregnant.

Portland, Maine.

The boys adored it there.

Tiny bookstores.

Fishing piers.

Winter snowstorms.

Blueberry pancakes every Sunday morning.

A life assembled with care.

Calmly.

Peacefully.

Safely.

After leaving Chicago, Emily had spent almost eight months moving from city to city while keeping her pregnancy hidden from everyone.

Eventually, she settled in Maine after continue reading …