I ignored that last part of what he said as I replied.
“This was something I had to do by myself. I’m the one who has to carry it for nine months, and then nurse it. It’s not an issue that needed your opinion.”
He just looked at me again, grimaced.
Finally, he sighed, then he spoke.
“I talked to you before we bought the big-screen television. I talked to you about planning our last vacation before I bought the plane tickets. I talked to you about whether I should get a new job. I ask you what you want to eat for dinner when we go out. I talk to you because we’re supposed to be partners, sharing one life. And I can’t even count the number of times you’ve asked my opinion about a pair of shoes or an outfit before you bought it, presumably for the same reason. But this, . . . This you did this all on your own and did not even think to talk to me. It makes me wonder what else you didn’t bother to tell me. Like maybe who else you have been fucking. Like good Dan when you tell me you are ‘working late,'” he said, putting emphasis on “working late” and making elaborate air quotes with his fingers.
“I haven’t been with anyone else!” I spat at him.
He pursed his lips and nodded.
“And I’m supposed to believe that why?”
That left me stunned.
“I’m not cheating. Why would you even think that?”
He surprised me by being ready to answer.
“So, I should trust you when you say that you were just lying about a limited number of topics instead of generally? Is that it?”
When he saw that I had no answer, he continued.