He didn’t realize he had two wedding bands on his finger until after he’d already gotten into a conversation with firstWife about babies. Earlier, he’d slid the cool ring right up against the engraved one already there. He’d been drinking. The previous night he’d had a fight with secondWife (about babies) and afterwards got so drunk at the bar he was still drunk when he came back to firstHouse in the morning. He’d botched it up.
“Hold my hand,” said firstWife from across the breakfast table. “I want you to hold my hand, say you want this.”
He was in a pickle because, under the table, firstRing was tight and wouldn’t come off, and now he realized that on the back of his other hand there was an phone number scribbled upside-down in black ink from the pen from that sticky bar counter. He’d thought the girl had wife potential.