“And a few weeks ago,” I continued. “After we had that fight. You came over here. I saw your car. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“You know what I’ve been doing,” he said, his voice flat.

“Yes, Donald,” I said firmly. “I know what you’ve been doing. What the two of you have been doing.” I took a breath, created a space for the precise moment to drop my bomb: “I know about the baby.”

A second or two passed; Donald’s face, instead of becoming more enraged, simply looked confused. His brow furrowed. “Baby?” he said.

“Listen, Donald. I heard the message Adrienne left you today, on your cell phone. About the test results being positive. I know the two of you have been seeing each other, and that now you’re . . .” I took a step back, regarding them both from a distance. “Now she’s pregnant, and I don’t know when, if ever, you were planning on telling me.” I stared only at him. “I just can’t believe you would do this to me.”

There was an expression on Donald’s face that I’d never seen before: it was as if I were a stranger to him; someone he didn’t know; someone he didn’t particularly like.

“Adrienne’s not pregnant,” he said.

“Really. Then why did her test results come back ‘positive’?”

I had him. I knew I had him.

“The test results weren’t hers,” he said slowly, his face pained. “They were Lucy’s.”

I blinked.

“Lucy has cancer. In her leg and behind her eye. She’s dying.”

I blinked again.

“She got sick a few weeks ago, out of the blue—that day, after our fight. Yesterday when you saw us together we had taken her to the veterinary hospital for tests. Today, this afternoon, we got the results back. Adrienne called to tell me that. And I came over here because we had to make a decision. Which is what we’ve been doing since I got here.”

All the blood seemed to drain from my body. I looked from Donald to Adrienne, wondering, for a split second, if she had orchestrated this whole thing—lied about the dog’s ailments and dire test results—in order to get him back. But when I looked at Donald again, I realized it was all true: Lucy really was sick; he had been heartsick because of it; he had been spending time here to deal with the situation because I wasn’t there for him.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I whispered. I was trying desperately not to panic: I knew I had wounded Donald to the core.