She was crying on the other end of the line. He hated to hear her cry. It brought back the car ride to Indianapolis and the parking lot circled by protesters. When he heard her cry, or any woman in his life, he felt out of control, like it was his fault.

“Okay. Yeah, listen, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the call.”

He hung up before she could respond and stared at the fire as that day came back to him. Driving in silence. And then the noise of the people outside the fence. The people didn’t sound angry so much as desperate, pleading for life. But what did those people know about their lives, their choice? What did they know of the corner the two of them were in?

And here he was in another corner because of the past. All because of their mistake.

Brian tried to ignore the storm inside and stay engaged during dinner, but the weight of his thoughts was too much. He couldn’t hear much of what Azure said and she caught him staring off as they ate.

After dinner, he scraped the uneaten food from the plates and realized he’d hardly touched his own meal. He always had a big appetite but not tonight.

Azure had put Presley to bed and read her a story. He heard her reading in the singsong pattern of the book his daughter asked for every night.

“Well, she is a little ball of energy tonight,” Azure said as she came back into the kitchen. As she loaded the dishwasher, she said, “I should have put her down at eight before she caught her second wind.”

“Yeah,” Brian said.

Azure had long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. Her brown eyes had arrested him the first time he’d seen her. Her voice was soft and comforting, most of the time. Their relationship was so different from the one he’d had with Melissa. Azure was easy to talk with. She also seemed to know when Brian just needed to be alone and gave him space.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” she said. “You’ve hardly said a word this entire night.”

Brian stared at the dirty dishes, his back to his wife. How could he start the sentence that led to what he needed to tell her? There was emotion welling inside and he hated emotion.

“I . . . uh . . .” He sniffed and realized his nose was running along with the blur in his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” Azure said nonchalantly, still stacking the dishwasher.

He turned and saw her and wanted to run, just like in his dream. But he knew he couldn’t, not because he couldn’t find a door, but because she deserved to know. So he mustered the courage, if that’s what it was, and spoke.

“There’s something I should have told you a long time ago, but, uh . . .”