He stopped.
“Because you knew I went there,” I said slowly.
“Because I knew it was the best practice in the state for your kind of injury,” he said. “And yes. Because I’d seen your name on a donor list for their charity fundraiser once. I knew you were a patient there.”
I was stunned.
I sat in his chair and just looked at him. At this man I’d been married to for twenty years. This man I’d thought I knew down to the bone.
I’d never known him at all.
Or maybe I’d known him exactly right. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“Then why hide it?” I asked. “Why not just tell me? That first day? Or the second day? Or the day you asked me out? Or the day you married me?”
He looked down at his shoes.
“Because I was ashamed,” he said.
