Mark never wanted me to do anything naughty or unexpected or unorthodox, which was precisely why I signed up for this. After twelve years with him—thirteen if we’d made it another two months, I needed to prove to myself that I was still a living, breathing woman. Our life together had gone just as my mother had said it would—courtship, a proposal, marriage. Somewhere in there, sex had been introduced, but it hadn’t been soon enough for me to realize that Mark and I would never make it. My biggest mess-up…