My husband was standing somewhere behind the cockpit door, making a public declaration of love to another woman while his seven-year-old son sat in the back of his airplane holding a picture he had drawn just for him.
I wanted to stand up. I wanted to march toward the front of the plane and demand that Tyler explain himself.
But Mason was watching me.
So I took a breath, forced my voice to remain steady, and said, “Let’s wait until we land, okay?”
He nodded, although his eyes had already filled with tears.
I reached for the drawing, hoping to fold it before he could look at it again.
Instead, he pulled it against his chest.
“I made this for him,” he whispered. “I thought he would be happy.”
