The version I told other people was simple.
Corinne went into labor unexpectedly while I was traveling for business.
Flights were delayed.
Traffic was impossible.
By the time I arrived, Owen had already been born.
It seemed unfortunate.
Almost tragic.
It made me look like a husband who had tried and failed.
The truth was uglier.
I wasn’t traveling for business.
I was with Tessa.
Corinne had been thirty-eight weeks pregnant.
Her doctor had warned us the baby could come any day.
I left anyway.
Tessa had complained we’d not spent enough time together.
She said she was tired of stolen dinners and rushed afternoons.
“If you actually care about me,” she told me, “prove it.”
I should have ended the affair then.
At 11:47 p.m. the first night, my phone rang.
Corinne.
Tessa was asleep nearby.
I silenced it.
Corinne called again.
I insisted that if it were serious, she would leave a message.
