Triplets Under the Tree

And it was all a lie.

Her sister’s marriage had been a sham. The strong, beautiful commitment she’d imagined was an illusion. The man she’d thought so steadfast and constant? An adulterer. Antonio wasn’t perfect in the way she’d thought he was, and her guilt had been all for nothing.

Nothing. That guilt certainly hadn’t served to keep her out of Antonio’s bed. Oh, no, she’d hopped right into his arms with practically no resistance. She’d given her virginity to a man who thought so little of marriage vows that he couldn’t honor them. Who thought so little of love that he hadn’t considered it a necessity when choosing a wife.

It was reprehensible.

And none of it made sense. The awful words pouring out of Antonio’s mouth: the admission that he hadn’t been in love with Vanessa, the affair, the reasons for not divorcing—they didn’t mesh with the man she’d fallen in love with.

She’d known Antonio for seven years. Was she really such a bad judge of character that she could love a man who’d treated her sister like that? How could she forgive any of this?

She wished she could cry. But everything was too numb.

After the babies had been fed, she slumped in the rocking chair as Leon, Annabelle and Antonio Junior crawled around on a blanket in the center of the nursery. It had been only a couple of hours since Antonio had told her. But it felt like a year.

“May I come in?”

Her gaze cut to the door. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Antonio stood just inside it, his expression blank.

For an instant, her heart lurched as she drank him in. Apparently, nothing could kill the reaction she still had to him. A sobering realization. As was the fact that he hadn’t tracked her down with some magical solution to the giant cloud over them now, as much as she might wish that such a thing existed. No, he was here because they always played with the babies before dinner. It had become a ritual all five of them enjoyed, and he would still want to spend time with his children no matter what else happened.

Life went on. And they were co-parents of small children. Forever.

“Of course you can come in,” she said. “This is your house.”

He winced and she almost apologized for the bitter tone. But she didn’t have the energy and she wasn’t all that sorry. The old Caitlyn would have apologized. The old Caitlyn always had a kind word for everyone and lived in a rosy world of rainbows and unicorns, obviously.

All that had gotten her was devastated and brokenhearted. Why hadn’t someone warned her that a commitment had absolutely nothing hidden inside it to guard against being hurt? Actually, it was worse because then you had to figure out how to live with your hurt.

Antonio crouched on the blanket and handed Leon a rattle, murmuring encouraging words as his son crawled toward it. Annabelle hummed as she explored the perimeter of the blanket and Antonio Junior lay on his back in the center of the room, examining the ceiling with his unique brand of concentration.

Not so unique, actually. His father had that same ability to hone in on something and it was nearly hypnotic.

She tamped down the tide of sheer grief. Antonio wasn’t who she thought he was. He hadn’t been probably since the beginning. She had to get past it, forgive him and get over her disappointment so they could move on. Didn’t she?

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, marking off second after interminable second. They bled into a minute, then another. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. But this was how it had to go. They’d play with the babies and eat dinner. Then what? They shared a bedroom. Would they get ready for bed and lay next to each other with the silence and the big letter A for affair creating an invisible boundary between them?

“I can’t do this.” She was on her feet, hands clenched in tight fists, before she fully registered moving. “It’s like waiting for the executioner’s ax to fall.”

Antonio glanced up at her, his mouth set in a hard line. It ruined the beauty of his face. He was obviously as miserable as she was. She hated that she noticed and hated even more that she apparently still cared.

“What is? Hanging out with our kids?”

“No. This.” She swirled a taut hand in the air to encompass the room at large, but she meant the two of them and the big question marks surrounding their relationship, how they moved forward, all of it. “I can’t do this with you. I’m not Vanessa. I won’t put up with affairs and I’m not okay with it.”

She’d yearned for her sister’s life and now she had it. The whole kit and caboodle. Clearly she needed to be more careful what she wished for. Yet it was such a suitable penance. She bit back hysterical laughter.