Two years later and I’m dealing with another fucking D-Day. Just got a message from The Saint and he gave me his phone number. We had a nice long talk. I’m not sure how long it’s been going on but she went to the fucking funeral with him. And there was a reunion last time he went and he saw her then. I’m not sure what I’m going to do at this point. I don’t want to ruin my kids’ lives yet again. There’s no fucking way we can sell this house and get what we’ve put into it. I’ve got 3 dogs and 3 cats and what the hell am I going to do with them? Oh, and not that it matters anymore but he texted me at 11:30 and said he had to turn around because he had keys in his briefcase so he left this morning. Then he had an accident. Good! I wish he had fucking died!