Each day she became even more glowing and beautiful as her belly swelled.
Astrid and I were barely talking while Indi and Finn were doing shit like dancing in the motherfuckingmoonlighttogether.
I didn’t want to know this, but one night Astrid and I were in the kitchen for our late dinner, the silverware clinking noisily because we were saying nothing to each other.
So I could hear Finn and Indi very clearly.
They had some kind of little radio playing softly, light and buoyant Irish music. It sounded delightful, so it couldn’t be Finn’s music.
But they were dancing together, Indi light on her feet like always, Finn with an arm around her deliciously thickening waist.
“How is the Anthropology Department doing?” I asked Astrid, for something, anything, to distract me from the little shadows that fell across the window. Finn was leading Astrid on a merry dance all through the garden, circling around theflowers and bushes, the first leaves of fall beginning to drop gently down around them.
My mind was dragged unwillingly back to that day months ago. . .
“I regret that you saw that,” I said stiffly, breathing heavily because I had just run across the span of two yards so I could head off Indi.
My wife was sitting at the table.
“Iregret that youdidthat,” she said calmly.
“There is no need to overreact,” I said, but inside I was feeling panicky. “It was a mistake. It doesn’t mean anything. I’ll stop.”
Indi didn’t say anything.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Finding the number for a lawyer,” she returned tranquilly.
“You—want to get divorced over this?” I asked in astonishment. “One—mistake in five years?”
“One mistake?” Indi asked, turning her eyes to me. “You think you’ve only made one mistake in five years?”
“That’s right,” I said.
I was feeling heated under the collar and irritable. There was no way Indi was going to get divorced over this. She loved me too much. I was going to call her bluff.
She finally shook her head.
“I don’t even know what to say to that. Are you leaving or should I?”
“Indi, you are being ridiculous!” I protested, barely holding back my temper.
“You cheated,” she said dismissively. “You can barely even apologize and you don’t think you’ve made any mistakes? It’s over, Ambrose.”
And with my offended hauteur, I had stalked away and moved in with Astrid.
My stupid pride and conceit had stopped me from instantly falling to my knees before my wife and begging for her forgiveness.
Why the fuck had I been so full of pride? There was no guarantee Indi would have forgiven me, but I should have pulled out all the stops and begged on my hands and knees.
Because I knew now that I was only fooling myself.
I had buried my feelings, but I hadn’t stopped loving her.
Now she had moved on. And not just with anybody. But a goddamn international rock star.
Why in the world had I been so conceited that I hadn’t gotten down on my hands and knees, hadn’t begged for another chance? Hadn’t done everything to prove I deserved another chance?
