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“What did she mean to you before she became your ex-wife?”
I blew out a breath. Here was my chance to explain.
“We dated. We were not exclusive. She got pregnant and told me it was mine. I waited until George was born, then requested a paternity test. When it came back, I proposed.”
Ruby listened but didn’t move or respond in any way, so I added quietly, “It was not some great love story; it wasn’t a love story at all.”
I hurried on, hoping I’d find the right words to impress upon her how little she had to worry about. “I’d always wanted a family, but I’d only ever loved you. When George was born, he became my family.”
I took a breath. “Ruby, there was never anyone special after you. One woman was as good as any other, and she had George, so I committed myself to her. Just not in the way she wanted.”
Ruby’s hand lay still, almost lifeless, in mine. I couldn’t tell if giving her my story was helping my cause or hurting it, but in the end, all I could give her was the truth. I continued.
“When she found the box with our photos, she confronted me and demanded I throw them out. I wouldn’t do it. She was angry and I was shocked.”
Finally, her hand jerked in mine, and she flicked her eyes at me briefly.
“Why were you shocked?”
I raised my eyebrows, it still astounded me. “Because I thought we had an understanding. We were never in love. We were not even exclusive before we got married. When I expressed the reasons for my surprise, she told me she hadn’t dated anyone else for months before she got pregnant with George.”
Ruby’s hand spasmed, and I squeezed it gently.
“Do you want me to continue?”
She nodded, her gaze aimed towards the middle distance, staring at nothing.
“Overnight she went from playing the part of a happy, stay-at-home mom, to a victim suffering the ill effects of her husband’s emotional affair. She moved out of our bedroom that night.”
Ruby froze beside me, and I immediately regretted my choice of words. I should have just said she moved into the guest room. I clutched her hand tightly in mine and hurried on.
“She took all her clothes and toiletries to the guest bed and bath. For two weeks she raked me over the coals, calling me at work to berate me, every night accusing me of using her. One of those nights she let it slip about how wrong she was to think I’d be a good dad and that if she could go back, she never would have… she didn’t finish the sentence, but I believe she was about to say she never would have gotten pregnant.”
Ruby gasped and wrapped her fingers around mine tightly, dropping her gaze to the ground in front of her.
“The next day when I got back from work, she had moved all her clothes and toiletries back into the master bedroom and told me she forgave me. I couldn’t pretend anymore. I slept in the guest room, and the next day I moved to a hotel until I found an apartment.”
“That’s terrible,” Ruby whispered.
“It wasn’t good,” I agreed.
I studied her profile.
Her eyes scanned the empty space in front of her. Finally, she looked at me.
“That is not how I pictured it,” she admitted.
I held her eyes, relieved to note the absence of the usual jealousy and insecurity. “I doubt any of it was how you picture it,” I asserted.
She nodded. “What does George know?”
“Only the basics. That it wasn’t a love match, but that he is loved.” I paused thinking back to that painful conversation that happened only a year ago. “He doesn’t need to know anything more. Not yet.”
Ruby’s hand tightened around mine, and she asked softly, “Is she good to him?”
I squeezed her back and felt my heart rate begin to return to normal. “She loves him, but she expects a lot from him, and lets him know when he doesn’t deliver. His stepdad balances her out.”
Ruby’s hand stiffened in mine. “He seems nervous to me, Vander,” she murmured hesitantly, “as if he’s waiting for me to explode.”
