Nathan pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Don't tell me why. I can't hear why until I know what.” Emily lowered herself onto the edge of the sectional.
She suddenly looked older than the woman who had rushed toward him two minutes earlier. “Ask me anything.” Nathan almost shouted that he should not have to interrogate his own marriage. Instead he sat in the armchair across from her because his knees felt strangely unreliable.
“Did you ever plan to tell me before I walked through that door?” “Yes.” “When?”
“This week.” “You knew my flight schedule for months.” “I knew the window.
You kept saying dates were changing.” “I told you yesterday what time I landed.” “I know.”
Nathan stared at her. “Yesterday.” Emily nodded, tears moving freely now. “I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds exactly like what happened.” She had no answer. The silence between them was filled by the muted ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantel. Nathan noticed it because he needed something neutral to hold onto.
He had bought that clock with Emily at an antique mall the first year they were married. She had bargained twenty dollars off the price while he pretended not to be impressed. He remembered carrying it to the truck. He remembered how young they had both been.
“When did you get pregnant?” he asked. “March, two years ago.”
Nathan closed his eyes. March. He had called her on their anniversary that month. The connection had been bad, audio only.
Emily had cried when he apologized for not being there. She told him she missed sleeping beside him. He had believed every word. “Did you know then?”
“Not yet. I found out in April.” “And Marcus?”