They had photos of resorts with white-sand beaches, mountain cabins with private hot tubs, and hotels where breakfast probably cost more than my weekly grocery bill.
Every Friday, flowers arrived at their house.
Not grocery store flowers, either.
David sent floral arrangements that Rachel would photograph and post online.
“Another Friday,” she’d joke whenever I visited.
She would trim the stems, arrange the vase, and act embarrassed by the attention.
On every anniversary, there was beautiful jewelry.
One year, it was a bracelet. Another year, diamond earrings.
Rachel would hold out her wrist or turn her head so I could see.
“He’s ridiculous,” she’d say, smiling.
David always seemed pleased with himself.
“My wife deserves nice things.”
It was hard to argue with that.
