Seven months meant Tyler’s kindergarten graduation.
Seven months meant their anniversary dinner at the Italian place Lauren claimed gave her a migraine.
Seven months meant Ryan had attended Michael’s company cookout and shaken his hand two weeks after sleeping with his wife.
“Did he come here before?”
Lauren’s eyes moved toward the floor.
Michael understood.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
He laughed softly.
“You don’t know how many times another man was in my house?”
“Our house.”
Michael looked at her.
“That correction mattered to you?”
She closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the first time she said it.
Michael felt nothing.
“Were you going to stop?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“We talked about it.”
“That’s not a date.”
Lauren started crying again.
“He kept saying he would end things.”
Michael frowned.
“What things?”
Her eyes opened.
“Nothing.”
The speed of the answer bothered him.
“What things, Lauren?”
“Our affair.”
“That sentence doesn’t make sense.”
She shook her head.
“I’m exhausted.”
Michael watched her.
Something was wrong beneath the obvious wrong.
He could feel it.
But at one in the morning, he did not yet know where to look.
“I’m sleeping in the guest room.”
Lauren stood quickly.
“Please don’t make decisions tonight.”
Michael looked at her.
“You made decisions for seven months.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“It is.”
He walked upstairs.
The guest room had a narrow bed mostly used for folded laundry and visiting relatives. Michael changed into sweatpants and lay down without turning off the lamp. He stared at the ceiling until almost six.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tyler on the floor.
That image always arrived before Lauren kissing Ryan.
At 6:08, the door opened.
Tyler stood there holding his fox.
Michael sat up.
“Hey.”
Tyler climbed into bed.
“Mommy’s awake.”
Michael pulled the blanket over him.
“Okay.”
“She’s crying.”
Michael swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not at you.”
Tyler put one hand against Michael’s chest.
“Your heart is fast.”
Michael almost broke.
“I know.”
Tyler rested his head against him.
“You can hold Foxy.”
Michael took the stuffed animal.
“Thanks.”
“He helps.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“I bet.”
By seven, Lauren was in the kitchen making pancakes.
She had not made pancakes before school in nearly a year.
Tyler seemed excited at first, then looked at Michael before smiling.
That small hesitation made Michael angrier than anything Lauren had said.
A six-year-old should not need permission to enjoy breakfast because his parents had destroyed the emotional weather.
Lauren put chocolate chips in Tyler’s pancakes.
He thanked her.
She poured coffee for Michael.
He did not touch it.
After breakfast, Michael drove Tyler to school.
The boy talked about a science project for most of the ride.
Then he suddenly asked, “Is Mr. Ryan Mommy’s boyfriend?”
Michael’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“No.”
Tyler frowned.
“Then why was he in your bed?”
Michael took a breath.
“Your mom and I are going to talk about that.”
“Are you mad at him?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised both of them.
Tyler looked out the window.
“Are you mad at Mommy?”
Michael waited.
“A little.”
“Do you still love her?”
The question hurt.
“I don’t know what things are going to look like yet.”
Tyler seemed unsatisfied.
Then he asked, “Do you still love me?”
Michael nearly pulled the car over.
“Yes.”
He looked at his son in the rearview mirror.
“That part is not changing.”
Tyler nodded.
“Okay.”
At school, he climbed out and ran toward the entrance.
Halfway there, he turned.
“Pick me up?”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Michael watched until Tyler disappeared inside.
Then he drove home.
Lauren was waiting in the living room.
“We should go to counseling.”
Michael closed the door.
“We should call attorneys.”
Her face changed.
“Michael.”
“I’m filing for divorce.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No?”
“You’re hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
Michael almost laughed.
“I have never thought more clearly.”
“You cannot end seven years because of one terrible night.”
He stared.
“Seven months.”
She flinched.
“You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
Lauren stood.
“Think about Tyler.”
“I am.”
“You’re going to break his family.”
Michael looked at her for several seconds.
Then he said, “His family broke while he was sleeping on the floor.”
She began crying.
“I’ll leave the firm.”
Michael said nothing.
“I’ll block Ryan.”
Nothing.
“You can have every password.”
Still nothing.
“I’ll do anything.”
Michael studied her face.
There it was again.
Fear.
Not only fear of losing her marriage.
Something deeper.
Something waiting behind the affair.
“What else?”
Lauren went still.
“What?”
“What else happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You look afraid of something I haven’t asked yet.”
Her eyes shifted.
Michael felt his stomach tighten.
“What is it?”
“There’s nothing else.”
“Then why did you panic upstairs when I started talking about Tyler?”
Lauren’s face emptied.
Michael watched her carefully.
“What about Tyler?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Lauren.”
“Michael, please.”
“What about my son?”
The word son hit her like a blow.
She sat down suddenly.
Michael felt cold.
The room seemed to narrow.
“Lauren.”
She covered her face.
“Please don’t do this right now.”
His pulse began pounding.
“Do what?”
“I can’t.”
Michael stepped closer.
“Say it.”
She shook her head.
“Say whatever you’re hiding.”
Her shoulders began trembling.
Michael had watched Lauren cry many times over seven years.
This was different.
There was no performance left.
Only fear.
He whispered, “Is Tyler mine?”
Lauren stopped moving.
Everything in Michael went silent.
He heard the refrigerator.
The furnace.
A truck passing outside.
Then Lauren lowered her hands.
“I don’t know.”
Michael stared at her.
“What?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
He took one step backward.
“No.”
“Michael—”
“No.”
“I swear I wasn’t sure.”
He laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“You weren’t sure.”
Lauren stood.
“When I got pregnant, the dates were close.”
Michael looked at her as though she had changed shape.
“The dates between what?”
She looked away.
“Ryan.”
Michael stopped breathing.
The affair suddenly became larger than seven months.
“How long have you known him?”
Lauren whispered, “Before you.”
Michael gripped the back of a chair.
“How long before me?”
“We dated.”
“Dated?”
“It was complicated.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a year.”
Michael shook his head.
“You told me you barely knew him before Halston.”
“I lied.”
The simplicity of the admission hurt more than explanation would have.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you worrying.”
Michael stared at her.
“Apparently I should have.”
Lauren began talking faster.
“Ryan was married when we were together. He kept saying he would leave. He never did. I ended it before I met you.”
“Before?”
She closed her eyes.
Michael knew.
“Before I proposed?”
No answer.
“Lauren.”
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“No.”
The room tilted.
“You were sleeping with him while we were engaged.”
“A few times.”
“How many?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember.”
She began crying again.
Michael’s voice broke.
“Was he sleeping with you when you found out you were pregnant?”
Lauren did not answer.
Michael sat down because his legs stopped feeling dependable.
“You knew Tyler might be his.”
“I hoped he was yours.”
The sentence crushed whatever remained.
Michael looked at her.
“Hoped?”
“I loved you.”
“Then why was there another man?”
“I was confused.”
“You were engaged.”
“I was scared.”
He stared.
“Of what?”
“Ryan never chose me.”
Michael’s face went still.
Lauren realized too late what she had said.
Michael nodded slowly.
“So I did.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes.”
He stood again.
“That is exactly what you meant.”
“Michael, please.”
“I was the man who chose you after the man you actually wanted didn’t.”
“No.”
“You knew I would stay.”