What Doesn't Kill My Marriage Makes the Surgeon Cut Deeper

In the seventh year of my marriage, my mom went into surgery, and a doctor's careless mistake left her in a coma.

They held me at the hospital while I kept hammering Jericho Fowler’s number like a madwoman. He didn’t pick up at all.

It wasn’t until Verona MacGill—my mom’s surgeon—sneered at me that the truth landed like a punch in the gut.

“My god, Venice, have you still not figured out your place? When you were nearly assaulted, when you were in that car crash, every time you called Jericho, he didn’t pick up. Do you know why?”