“I said I approved it.”
“Those are different things.”
“Yes,” he said after a pause. “They are.”
There was no anger in his voice, only a heaviness that made my own anger feel suddenly less simple.
“Why didn’t you ask questions?” I said.
“I should have.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No,” Alexander replied. “It isn’t.”
I heard him draw a breath.
“I’m not asking you to change your mind. I just need you to know I didn’t make every choice you thought
I made.”
The necklace flashed in my memory, bright beneath the ballroom lights.
“You made that one,” I said.
“Yes.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
“I’m sorry about the baby’s scan,” he said at last. “I wish I could have been there.”
“You could have been, if things were different.”
“I know.”
His voice caught on those two words, but he did not ask me to comfort him.
