Looking back, I can see the signs were there long before everything fell apart. I just chose not to see them.
My husband’s best friend, Mark, used to come over all the time, often bringing his daughter Lily with him. She had been part of our lives for years—she was the flower girl at our wedding, just eight years old when our first child was born. By the time our fourth arrived, she was old enough to help babysit. To our kids, she wasn’t a guest. She was family.