“Here’s what you do, Michael. You go upstairs and tell your children about their mother. Then you hold them when they cry and you get your family—and this house—ready for your wife’s return. You don’t make the same mistake again. Next time, you look at Jolene—all of her, Michael, even what’s missing—and you tell her you love her. You do love her, don’t you?” “I do. But she won’t believe me. Not now.” “Who would? You have been foolish. You will have to swallow your pride and convince her … and yourself, perhaps. It will not be easy, nor should it.” She patted his thigh. “And now, you will go up
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