When they were dating, they had talked about having kids someday, but it lurked in the recesses of her brain as a future aspiration, something abstract. She had thought she might warm to the idea at some point down the road. If not, she could push it out of her own mind long enough that it might escape his and he’d forget, and they’d never have to discuss it again.

Xavier paced across the living room floor to the kitchen. “Penelope and Tess were even talking the other night about having a kid, whether or not they can legally marry. Here we are married, and look at us right now. Something’s wrong as hell with this picture.”

“Our friends have nothing to do with this. Can you please leave them out of our marriage?”

“Fine. You’re right. But why don’t you tell me what, or who, this is about then? I’m trying real hard to understand here. If a man’s wife doesn’t want his child and can’t stand to have him touch her anymore, it’s usually because there’s another man.” He choked on those last two words and they came out hard and brittle. Even in his anger, he’d been careful to use the third person, not to accuse her directly, but it meant the same thing. Her husband suspected she was having an affair. How did they get here?

Xavier gathered their plates and utensils from the table, dropping them in the sink with a loud clatter. Gripping a scouring pad tightly, he scrubbed a serving bowl. She watched the pulsing veins in his hands and thought back to how gentle those hands had been the night they’d met.

After the art event was over, the street outside the gallery had sparkled from the rainfall, and Xavier had reached for her hand, claiming it was his duty to ensure she didn’t slip and fall in a puddle and sully her sundress. Her hand had felt safe and protected in the cushion of his soft, larger one.

All that old-school attention had impressed her, which she hadn’t liked to admit back then, but she knew game when she heard it, too. While not begrudging him any player points, she had remained engineering-school practical. She hadn’t fully trusted a man since Ronald left her with a hole in her heart and a baby in her belly.

After they talked for three hours under the moonlight that night, Xavier began referring to her as his girl, and she’d promptly asked him to take a week to clear the field. He had the nerve to look brand-new. She slowed her speech to give him a chance to catch up.

“It means that you might want to tie up any loose ends with other ladies before pursuing me.”

Xavier laughed, and she saw one crooked front tooth breaking formation, turned the wrong way as if in rebellion. That little imperfection endeared him to her even more.

“You don’t need to worry. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“But is there a woman out there who thinks she’s your girlfriend?”

He opened his mouth to give a quick answer but closed it just as fast. “All fields will be clear by next weekend, in time for our first official date.” Then he’d saluted, making her laugh, and she knew then, under that star-filled sky, that she had met her husband.

Standing behind Xavier in their kitchen now, helpless, she touched his arm gingerly, as if it were a flame that could burn her. “There is no one else. You know that. Will you just talk to me?”

He flinched. “I’ve been talking for months. I’ve been the only one talking while you’ve been running. Making excuses. Lying.”

She hadn’t seen her husband this angry since their engagement, when he’d asked to meet Mama and Eli to get to know them and receive their blessing for the impending marriage. When Ruth had dodged his request as long as she could, she eventually flat-out refused, and Xavier assumed she was ashamed of him and likely had no intention to marry. Every time her bond with Xavier had stretched thin enough to break, it was because of her grand attempts to keep her worlds separate, to protect the lie of her past at all costs, even if that cost included her husband.

The truth could serve as a needed relief valve, lowering the pressure inside their marriage before it exploded. She had confessed to him about unpaid parking tickets and finally told him that his “famous” foot rubs were more ticklish than tantalizing.

But this was different. The birth of her baby seemed to have happened in another lifetime. To another person even. What did a wife owe her husband? How much retroactive truth-telling could be expected?

For what seemed like an eternity, Xavier scrubbed the same dish over and over in silence, just the way Mama used to when she couldn’t figure out what else to do with her emotions.

She wanted to see his eyes. She needed to see them. She needed him to at least look at her. But she knew he wouldn’t as long as she kept silent.

In a small voice, Ruth spoke, unsure at first whether she’d said the words aloud or only in her head. “You’re right. I’ve been lying to you.”

When his hands stilled in the dishwater, she knew he’d heard her. Without turning to face her, he said, “I’m listening.”

Hail battered the windows of their town house and the wind roared. Ruth sank into the closest kitchen chair. Xavier dried his hands and sat down opposite her. There was no easy way to begin a story that was years past its due date. Eleven years, to be exact.

“I was seventeen. My senior year in high school. I messed up. Badly. His name was Ronald Atkins.” She rubbed her hands together in her lap, her mouth going bone dry when she spoke her old boyfriend’s name aloud.