That would require us to be in Kayla’s shoes, because she stepped out, too. I wouldn’t know. Now, if my marriage as it is was a one-sided deal, I couldn’t fathom. The happy days of courtship, the flirting, late nights filled with ice cream and dumb jokes, the first time being casually asked ring size over pizza; meeting parents, nervous dinners, figuring out how to agree on disagreements, being in a room together without having to do something, just enjoying existence; popping the question, finding a house, nesting, goofily going through a zillion wedding dresses, entwining. The Big Day. Two becoming one flesh and nothing and no one else getting in the way. Loving someone so much that love becomes another little person. The laundry days with tiny shirts and sockies and bibs. And another, and another, and…