Walking back to his office, he suddenly realized how alone he felt. Susan was leaving with the kids. He was on his own now. He had imagined he would feel relieved, free to act without restraint, but instead he felt abandoned and at risk. Chilled, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his raincoat.
He hadn't handled the lunch with Susan well. And she would be going off, mulling over his answers.
Why didn't you tell me.
He hadn't answered that well. He hadn't been able to express the conflicting feelings he had experienced last night. The unclean feeling, and the guilt, and the sense that he had somehow done something wrong, even though he hadn't done anything wrong.
You could have told me.
He hadn't done anything wrong, he told himself. But then why hadn't he told her?