“I am.”
Ryan reached for her arm.
“Let’s talk outside.”
Dana pulled away.
“Why?”
“Not now.”
She looked from Ryan to me.
Then something changed in her expression.
“You didn’t tell her.”
Ryan froze.
“Tell me what?”
Dana stared at him.
“You said she knew.”
“Knew what?”
Ryan said her name like a warning.
“Dana.”
I stepped between them.
“No one is leaving until somebody explains why my daughter has been spending Sundays at your house.”
Dana’s eyes filled with tears.
“He told me you were separated.”
The hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
“We’re married.”
“I know you’re legally married,” Dana said quickly. “But he told me it had been over for almost a year.”
She wiped her eyes.
“He said you were only still living together because of Chloe.”
“Separate bedrooms. Roommates.”
That morning, Ryan had made pancakes.
He had kissed my cheek while handing me coffee.
Two nights earlier, we had been looking at vacation houses in North Carolina.
He had talked about Chloe learning to boogie board while I read on the porch.
We had shared the same bed every night for fourteen years.
Separate bedrooms.
Roommates.
I looked at Ryan.
“You told her we were separated?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No. Either we were separated or we weren’t.”
Dana shook her head.
“He told me you knew about me. He said you were dating someone too.”
“I didn’t know anything about you until Chloe said your name on a stretcher.”
Dana covered her mouth.
“I swear I didn’t know.”
Ryan raised his hands.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“I needed time.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“To figure out what I wanted.”
Then he said the words that told me everything.
“I needed more.”
Behind him, through the treatment-room window, Chloe was beginning to wake up.
