I kept waiting for Ryan to explain.
He had always been good at finding the right words when a situation became uncomfortable.
If he arrived late, he could make me laugh.
If he forgot something important, he could usually convince me that it hadn't been intentional.
Even during arguments, he knew when to lower his voice and when to reach for my hand.
That morning, he did none of those things.
He stood beside the stroller and looked from me to Simone.
Then he looked down at the girls again.
Mia was crying now.
Her little face had turned red, and she was moving her arms beneath the blanket.
I bent down to check her.
It was easier than looking at either adult.
I adjusted the blanket around her legs and touched her cheek.
"You're all right," I whispered.
I wasn't sure whether I was talking to her or myself.
Ryan cleared his throat.
"Claire, this isn't the place for this."
I looked up.
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because he had managed to make the harbor sound like the problem.
I was the one standing there with two babies.
I was the one who had watched him kiss another woman.
Yet somehow, the first thing he wanted to discuss was where we were standing.
"Then where would you like to talk about it?"
He glanced toward Simone.
She looked away briefly, as if she had suddenly become interested in something beyond the arrival area.
Ryan lowered his voice.
"Can we talk somewhere private?"
I looked at the stroller.
Ava was beginning to stir.
Mia's cries had grown louder.
I had spent the morning arranging everything so the girls would be comfortable during the trip.
I had packed enough supplies for several hours.
I had planned the timing around their feeding schedule.
I had thought about everything except the possibility that their father might greet us this way.
"Not before you answer me."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
He glanced around at the people passing nearby.
That small movement told me he was embarrassed.
But he wasn't embarrassed enough to apologize.
I waited.
He looked at Simone again.
She shifted her handbag to her other shoulder.
The three of us stood in a silence that seemed to grow heavier with every passing second.
Finally, Ryan spoke.
"Simone and I know each other."
I stared at him.
It was such a small sentence.
So ordinary.
It could have explained almost anything, yet it explained nothing.
"I saw you kiss her."
"I know what you saw."
His answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
I searched his face for some sign that he understood what those words meant to me.
He looked tense, but his expression remained controlled.
It was the same look he wore when he was trying to keep an argument from getting out of hand.
I had seen it before.
Usually, I had mistaken it for patience.
That morning, I wasn't so sure.
"Then why did you do it?"
He looked away.
For a moment, I thought he might finally tell me the truth.
Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's complicated."
I hated those two words.
Complicated.
As though the problem were too difficult for ordinary people to understand.
As though I were asking him to explain something beyond my ability to comprehend.
I had spent three months raising his daughters while he worked at sea.
I had managed sleepless nights, endless laundry, and the constant fear that I might miss something important because I was too tired to notice.
I had done all of that believing we were waiting for him together.
And now he was telling me that the kiss I had watched with my own eyes was complicated.
I felt anger rise inside me.
It frightened me because I had spent so long trying to remain calm.
"Did you know I was coming?"
He hesitated.
"No."
I looked at Simone.
She didn't react.
I returned my attention to Ryan.
"Have you been seeing her?"
He exhaled through his nose.
"Claire, please."
That was not an answer.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Yet he seemed to hope that saying my name would make me stop asking.
It almost worked.
For a second, I remembered all the times he had called me Claire in that same quiet tone when he wanted me to trust him.
I remembered how he used to reach across the table and squeeze my hand.
I remembered the first time he told me he wanted a future with me.
I had believed him because he sounded certain.
Now I wondered how much certainty a person could imitate.
Simone finally spoke.
"I don't think this is the right time to have a conversation like this."
I turned toward her.
She had no idea how much I disliked hearing that from her.
Perhaps she thought she was being reasonable.
Perhaps she simply wanted to leave.
I couldn't tell.
"What time would be right?"
She blinked.
I continued before she could answer.
"When would it be convenient for me to discover that my husband is kissing someone else?"
Ryan stepped closer.
"Claire, don't."
I looked at him.
There was something in his voice that made me stop.
Not because he had frightened me.
Because I recognized the warning beneath the words.
He wasn't asking me to calm down for my sake.
He was asking me to stop making the situation harder for him.
I looked at the stroller again.
Mia was still upset.
Ava had awakened and was moving her head from side to side.
The girls needed me.
That was the one thing I understood clearly.
I could demand answers at that moment, but I couldn't force Ryan to give them.
And I wasn't going to let our daughters spend their first reunion with their father surrounded by a scene neither of them could understand.
I lifted Ava from the stroller.
She made a small sound and settled against my shoulder.
Then I checked Mia's blanket and adjusted the stroller canopy.
I had to keep my hands busy.
If I stopped moving, I feared I might begin shaking.
Ryan watched me.
"Let me take one of them."
The offer might have sounded kind under different circumstances.
I looked at him for a moment.
He was their father.
He had every right to hold them.
I knew that.
But I couldn't bring myself to place Ava in his arms while the taste of that kiss still seemed to hang between us.
"Not right now."
His face changed.
He looked hurt.
I almost apologized.
That was the part I found hardest to admit later.
Even then, even after what I had seen, I was worried about hurting his feelings.
I was worried that I was being unfair.
I was worried that I might be making a terrible mistake by refusing to let him hold his daughter.
Meanwhile, he had not answered a single question.
Simone shifted her weight again.
"I should go."
Ryan turned toward her.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Then he nodded.
She started to walk away.
I watched her take several steps before something occurred to me.
If she had been a stranger, she might have looked surprised by what happened.
If she had misunderstood the situation, she might have apologized.
If she had only been offering a friendly greeting, the kiss might have left her just as confused as I was.
But Simone had done none of those things.
She had stood beside Ryan with the calmness of someone who knew him well enough not to panic.
I didn't know what that meant.
I only knew that I couldn't ignore it.
"Simone."
She stopped and turned around.
I held Ava close against my shoulder.
"Did you know he was married?"
The question seemed to change the air between us.
Simone's expression tightened slightly.
She glanced at Ryan.
It was a brief look, but I saw it.
He looked back at her.
Neither of them answered immediately.
That silence was different from the others.
It carried something.
Then Simone said, "You should talk to Ryan."
I stared at her.
"I am trying to."
She lowered her eyes for a moment.
"I don't want to make this worse."
I thought about the kiss.
I thought about the way her hand had rested on his chest.
I thought about how easily Ryan had put his arm around her.
The damage had already happened.
Whatever she believed she could avoid by remaining silent, it was too late for that.
"You don't have to make it worse," I said. "Just tell me the truth."
She looked at me again.
For a moment, I thought she might speak.
Then she turned away.
Ryan didn't stop her.
He watched her leave, his expression unreadable.
I stood there holding Ava while Mia cried in the stroller.
I had imagined this morning so many times.
I had imagined Ryan lifting the girls into his arms.
I had imagined him telling them how much he loved them, even though they were too young to understand.
I had imagined a photograph of the four of us that I could keep beside our wedding picture.
Instead, I had a stroller, a diaper bag, and a husband who wouldn't look me in the eye for more than a few seconds.
"Claire."
I turned toward him.
He had taken a step closer.
"Please let me explain."
I wanted to hear him.
That was the humiliating truth.
I wanted him to tell me that I had misunderstood.
I wanted him to give me a reason to believe the life I had built was still real.
But I was beginning to understand that wanting an explanation and receiving one were two different things.
"Then explain."
He glanced toward the departing crowd.
"Not here."
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I nodded once.
Not because I accepted his answer.
Because I needed to get the girls somewhere quiet, and because I was no longer willing to let him decide which questions I was allowed to ask.
I began pushing the stroller toward the exit.
Ryan followed.
For several steps, neither of us spoke.
I could hear his shoes behind me.
The sound reminded me of all the times he had walked beside me through ordinary days, carrying groceries or holding a door open while I pushed the stroller through the house.
The familiar sound made me feel worse.
I wanted him to catch up and take my hand.
I wanted him to act like the man I thought I knew.
Instead, he kept a careful distance.
When we reached a quieter area, I stopped beside a bench.
Ava was awake now.
I lowered her into the stroller and checked both girls.
Mia's crying had softened into small, tired noises.
I gave her a pacifier and waited until she settled.
Ryan stood a few feet away.
He looked at the girls for a long time.
Then he looked at me.
"I never wanted you to find out this way."
I felt my stomach tighten.
There it was.
Not an explanation.
Not a denial.
Something worse.
He had spoken as though there were a way for me to discover this that would have been acceptable.
I stared at him.
"What exactly did you think I was supposed to find out?"
He opened his mouth.
Then he closed it again.
I waited.
He looked down at the pavement.
And I realized that whatever he had planned to tell me, he had not planned to tell me that morning.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: I Had Come Prepared With Diapers and Baby Clothes, but Nothing Could Prepare Me for the Questions My Husband Refused to Answer
I Thought Our First Family Reunion Would Be the Happiest Morning of My Life Until I Saw Who Was Waiting Beside My Husband
Part 2 of 20
