I started changing my shoes.Raphael was quick. He stepped in front of me. “Where are you going?”Divorce, leaving home. Yesterday had shaken him too deeply, and he had turned even more raw than usual.Looking at his worried, wary eyes, I didn't want to set him off, so I picked an excuse at random.“Meeting a friend. Going shopping on Fifth Avenue, to clear my head.”He studied me. Then the knot between his brows loosened, and his forehead came clear and smooth as marble.He hesitated, and finally, for the first time, spoke up on his own. “I'll drive you.”I didn't refuse. Fifth Avenue, then a car to the airport, was just as good.On the way, Raphael drove, and his eyes kept stealing to the side, to me.“You really hate Daphne.” There was a thread of tension in his voice. “Don't you?”Daphne had been clinging to Raphael for a year now.I had answered this question of his more times than I could count.I hated her. I hated her beyond words.And Raphael always came back with the same lin
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