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how quickly he’d changed subjects.
    One minute they’d been talking about affairs and faithfulness. The next he was heading for the shower. She froze, replaying their conversation in her mind. Maybe the switch hadn’t been so sudden.
    After all, he showered at this time every Tuesday morning, and he was nothing if not punctual. And praying and reading the Bible together would become routine too—if they could find a way to get back to it.
    From inside the bathroom, she heard Connor turn on the shower, but instead of heading downstairs to make him a sandwich, she sat there, unmoving. At the center of her heart, something didn’t feel right. Was it something Connor had said, the tone of his voice, maybe? Or was it simply her sorrow for Renee? A chill made its way down her arms. How would it feel to be Renee Wagner? Michele remembered something Renee said once, a year ago.
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    – Karen Kingsbury –
    “I don’t have to worry about Joe.” She gave Michele an easy smile. “Some guys have cheating in their blood, but not Joe. He can’t even tell when a woman’s hitting on him. The last thing he’d do is have an affair.”
    Michele let the words play again in her mind. She could see herself nodding along, agreeing with her friend. Yes, Connor was the same type of man. The kind who could turn heads as he strode down an airport hallway, and never look anywhere but straight ahead.
    Good guys, safe guys. The kind that didn’t cheat on their wives.
    But one lonely night across the ocean in Rome, Joe tossed the rulebook out the window. An affair, one lousy affair, and now what?
    Eighteen years of marriage . . . the family they’d spent a lifetime building . . . all of it gone.
    So why were Joe and Renee’s troubles bothering her now? Joe and Connor were different men, weren’t they? For one thing, Joe didn’t have Connor’s faith. Even though they didn’t attend church as often as they once had, even though they couldn’t make time to pray together, God was the staying power in her husband’s life.
    Right?
    Michele stared at the closed bathroom door and a strong breeze rattled the blinds. She jumped at the sound and rose to her feet.
    Enough.
    She needed to get downstairs and make Connor lunch before he left. Worrying was nothing but a waste of time. What had happened to Renee would never happen to her, never. Connor was not a man given to impulsive moments, unplanned emotion. He was far too self-controlled, too sure of what he wanted from life and his future and his relationship with her and the girls. Too perfect to let himself make a mistake like that.
    Not even overseas on the loneliest night of his life.
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    – Oceans Apart –
    The shower had been running for five minutes before Connor’s heart settled into a normal beat. What would have made Michele ask a question like that?
    Had he always been faithful?
    She’d never brought that up before. Never.
    Water streamed down Connor’s chest and arms. Had she seen anything in his reaction? A hesitation or twitch of some kind? His face must’ve gone pale as he scrambled for the right words. Even now he had no idea how he’d come up with a cool, quick answer.
    Connor worked the shampoo through his hair and nudged the hot water knob higher, hotter. Space. That’s what he needed now, space between the troubles with Joe and Renee—and the conversation with Michele. By the time he was out of the shower and dressed, Michele would forget the whole thing, and the topic of his faithfulness wouldn’t come up again. Not ever. Michele was everything to him now, and never . . . never would he let himself do the thing Joe had done.
    That was a lesson he’d already learned.
    Suds ran down his face and chest, and the clean smell of bar soap filled the warm wet air. He loved Michele more than ever. Or maybe he’d always loved her this much. That awful night eight years ago was so far back down the road, most of the time Connor could convince himself he’d never been