My Husband Took Another Woman Home

Chapter 1

CLAIRE

Ethan was right there by the doors.

As the nurse wheeled me around the pillar in the pickup area, I saw his shoes first, then the hand hanging at his side. He stood with a dark gray jacket draped over one arm, his shirt cuffs rolled twice, his head bent to listen to the person beside him.

I settled against the chair, stiff from holding myself upright. September air drifted through the automatic doors. With my free hand, I tugged at the collar caught under my sling. I didn’t want him to think I looked like a wreck.

“My husband’s here,” I told the nurse.

She stopped the wheelchair. I gave him a small smile, afraid that if I tried for more, I would cry first.

The night before surgery, I’d sat on the edge of the bed and put the button-front top I planned to wear the next day into my bag.

Ethan found my charging cable for me, then wound it loosely, saying I could undo it with one hand that way.

He’d always been good at little things like that.

I held the cable he handed me instead of putting it straight into the bag.

“Can you come pick me up yourself tomorrow?”

He’d already said yes, but I went on.

“I know the driver could come, and there’s a caregiver. But I want you to pick me up and spend the evening with me at home. We don’t need to go out for dinner. You don’t have to prepare anything. Just stay home with me.”

He crouched in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

“I understand, Claire. I’ll pick you up and spend the evening with you.”

I asked if he’d be bored. He squeezed my knee and asked whether, after eleven years, it wasn’t a little late to start worrying about that.

I carried those words into the operating room with me.

The surgery to repair my old shoulder injury had frightened me, but I’d let myself think about going home. I’d even chosen a movie for us.

Now he looked up, saw me, and came straight over.

“Hey.” He bent to kiss my forehead and brushed the hair away from my cheek. “You’re still so pale. Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

My shoulder throbbed, and I couldn’t get comfortable. I leaned my face toward his hand. His warm thumb brushed my cheekbone, and I wanted desperately to be home in bed, watching a movie and listening to his complaints.

“Got everything in your bag?” he asked.

“I think so. Except my dignity. I left that in the bathroom getting dressed.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, and his thumb brushed my cheek gently again. “I’ll check lost and found later.”

I wanted to laugh too, but my throat closed up first. He bent to straighten the tucked-under edge of my collar, careful not to touch the sling.

I let him. For the first time that afternoon, I felt I could stop trying so hard.

I didn’t have to remember where every bag was or tell everyone who asked that I was fine, really.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“Anything, as long as you eat with me.”

Then, feeling I’d said it too many times, I added, “But you can’t eat my share too.”

“I’ll try to control myself.”

He was still looking at me as he said it. I relaxed the fingers curled beside my knee and waited for him to push the wheelchair.

The nurse asked who would be accompanying me home. Ethan said, “I’m here.”

Only then did I see Vivian behind him.

She was holding Sam’s hand. The boy had a dressing above his eyebrow and a dinosaur sticker in his other hand. Vivian’s mother stood a little farther away by the curb, rummaging in her bag for her car keys. I knew them, but I hadn’t expected to run into them here.

“What happened to Sam?”

“He fell on some steps,” Vivian said. “There was so much blood.”

The boy looked down at my immobilized arm and edged closer to his mother. I lowered the hand I’d been about to put on my shoulder back to my lap.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A tiny bit. I’m not allowed to pull this off.” He pointed to the dressing, then held up the sticker. “They gave me this.”

“That’s a fierce dinosaur.”

“It eats grass.”

“Then I’ve misjudged it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. The nurse who’d walked them out handed Vivian a paper bag and said the wound had been treated and he could go home to rest. If anything came up, she should call the number on the discharge instructions. Vivian nodded, took the bag, and looked at Ethan again.

I waited for her to finish. He was still in front of me, one hand on the wheelchair’s handle.

“The car’s right there.” Vivian’s mother lifted her keys. A silver car at the curb flashed its lights twice. “Come on. Let’s get you home so you can lie down. I’ll stay tonight.”

Sam retrieved his fallen sticker, assuring his grandmother crossly that he wasn’t running. Reassured, I looked up to ask Ethan where our car was.

Before I could, Vivian caught his cuff with a gentle tug.

“Could you take us home first?”

He turned his head.

“He kept asking if you were going to leave. I still can’t think straight.” She touched her temple with the hand holding the paper bag. “Mom drove over, but the whole way she kept asking why I hadn’t been watching him. I just don’t have the energy to hear it again.”

“Vivian.” Her mother frowned. “I only asked once.”

“I know. You don’t need to explain again.”

Silence fell between them. Sam stood in the middle, looking down as he peeled up the edge of the sticker and pressed it back into place. Ethan put a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was tired. The boy nodded.

“Of course I know Claire just had surgery.” Vivian glanced at me and lowered her voice. “But her driver’s already here, isn’t he? Just come with us this once. Sam only settled down when he saw you.”

Our driver was coming up the ramp. Ethan had arranged for him to help, with a blanket in the car and a caregiver waiting at home.

I looked back at him and held out the hand I could move.

I thought he would take it, help me stand, then explain to Vivian that he’d already promised me this evening. It wouldn’t take long to say. Her mother was still waiting, and the silver car’s back door was already open.

Ethan looked down and saw my hand, but first he bent to lift the bag from my lap.

“This is a little heavy,” he said.

As the strap lifted off my knees, my hand was still in the air. He turned and gave the bag to the driver, explaining that the discharge instructions were inside. It wasn’t meant to go in the trunk; the driver should hand it straight to the caregiver when they got home.

I drew my hand back.

“Ethan.”

He looked down at me again, patient. I knew that expression so well, as though he’d solved the difficult part and all that remained was to reassure me.

“I’ll take them home first. Everything’s taken care of for you.”

A suitcase rattled past behind me. I stared at him, unable to make sense of what he’d said.

“You’re not coming home with me?”

“I’ll be back a little later. The caregiver’s there already. Get some rest. Don’t wait for me before you eat.”

“Last night you said?—”

“I know.” He cut me off softly and glanced toward the nurse. “I remember. It’s just that this happened.”

I didn’t want to ask again in front of everyone.

The nurse still had her hands on the back of the chair, the driver was holding my bag, and Vivian stood only a few steps away.

I could feel my face getting hot. If I nodded, everyone could leave.

No one would have to stand outside the hospital any longer.

But the night before, I’d already made sure there was nothing he could misunderstand.

“Ethan, I need you today.”

He had heard me. His gaze moved from my eyes to my immobilized arm, then back to my face. No one else said a word.

I gripped a fold of my top and waited for him to answer.

“Claire, Vivian really can’t cope right now.

You saw her.” His voice was very low, as if we were discussing something we’d always been able to work out together.

“Her mother’s here, but if they’re like this the whole way home, it’ll only make him more anxious.

You have someone to look after you. You’ve always been stronger than she is. ”

I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t strong at all right now. I’d been scared before they took me into surgery, and scared when I woke up and couldn’t find him. I couldn’t even get this top on properly. I’d tried twice in the bathroom before finally pressing the call button for help.

The words crowded my mouth. I could almost hear how I would sound, like the boy saying his cut still hurt, hoping a grown-up would stay a little longer.

I swallowed them.

“Her mother can drive,” I said.

“I know.”

“And his wound’s been treated.”

“Yes. But she needs someone with her right now.”

He answered so naturally that I couldn’t find my next words. My shoulder gave a small throb inside the sling, but my fingertips had gone cold. He reached to touch my face. I turned a little, and his hand met only my hair.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, looking uncomfortable at last. “I will come home.”

I didn’t answer or ask the driver to wheel me away. I gave him a little more time.

Sam asked if he could ride in Ethan’s car. Vivian smoothed the boy’s hair without urging Ethan to hurry. A car farther away honked once because something was blocking its path. Ethan looked toward the lane, then back at me.

If he just said, “All right, let’s go home,” I would still take his hand. I could even wait for the apology. The thought made me feel ashamed.

“Text me when you get home,” he said.

Then he let go of the wheelchair’s armrest and turned toward Vivian.

I watched him take the paper bag from her, his other hand behind Sam’s back as he guided them toward the parking spaces. Vivian turned to say something to her mother. Her mother pressed her lips together and shut the silver car’s back door herself.

My husband opened a car door for another woman. She bent to help her son in, and he held one hand against the doorframe, waiting for them to settle.

The nurse came around to face me and asked if she could help me into the car now.

I nodded.

Standing took more effort than I’d expected.

She supported my good arm while the driver opened the door as far as it would go.

I turned slowly and sat, but it still pulled at my shoulder, and tears flooded my eyes.

I kept my head down, using the pain as cover while I eased my legs into the car a little at a time.

The driver handed me a tissue. I thanked him and pressed it to the corner of my eye, not daring to wipe. He set my bag beside me and went around to the driver’s seat. When the door closed, the sounds outside grew muffled.

A soft blanket hung behind the front headrest, and a small pillow to support my arm lay on the seat. Ethan had even thought of those things.

I touched the edge of the pillow with my palm. Remembering the warmth of his hand against my face sent a sharp pain through my chest. I turned the other way so the driver wouldn’t see my face in the mirror.

“Home, ma’am?”

Out of habit, I drew a breath, almost saying yes. I knew what I would find there: lit rooms, dinner ready, a bed turned down for me. I would lie down and pick up my phone at every sound of a car in the driveway, then tell myself he was on his way back anyway.

The engine hadn’t started yet. I felt the hard edge of my phone inside my bag and left it there.

I gave him Mia’s address without looking toward the parking spaces again.

His hand paused beside the screen. He turned to check. “Your sister’s place?”

“Yes. I’m going to my sister’s tonight.”