[There is nothing he can say in his defense. She's right. He'd been shitty, and saying 'oh, I did that because I didn't know what it meant that you were still wearing it, and I was scared to think about what I wanted it to mean, so I acted like a dickhead to cover it up' is unlikely to make her feel better about it.

Still, he frowns a little as he looks down at his hand, holding it out slightly like he doesn't know what to do with it. It's not lost on him that this is what it was probably like for her.]

I didn't start wearing it here, I started wearing it—

[He stops himself when a pair of strangers walks by, not that close but enough to remind him that they're still in a very public place, and updating his wife on the status of their marriage, from his perspective at least, is not something he wants to do with an audience. Even if the audience doesn't actually give a shit.]

Look, can we find a place to sit and talk? I don't know, a bench or something?