Chương 6
His face tightened.
“And otherwise?”
I held the passports against my chest.
“Otherwise, you made choices long before you signed anything.”
He nodded slowly.
This time he did not call me cruel.
He took the girls downstairs.
I watched from the window as Charlotte climbed into the back seat and immediately held the stuffed horse up to the glass.
Victor fastened her seat belt.
Abigail got in without looking toward the building.
When his car disappeared into traffic, I stood alone among the boxes and felt relief arrive hand in hand with fear.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
Penelope, my name is Daniel Mercer.
I think we need to speak about Naomi’s baby.
I read the message three times before I decided not to answer.
The name meant nothing to me.
That alone made it dangerous.
People who belonged in your life usually arrived carrying context.
Daniel Mercer had arrived carrying Naomi.
I set the phone down and went back to packing.
For ten minutes, I managed to concentrate on winter coats.
Then I checked the message again.
No second text had appeared.
I searched his name online.
There were too many Daniel Mercers to be useful.
An accountant in Virginia.
A high school baseball coach in Ohio.
A dentist with unnervingly white teeth.
A project manager whose profile picture showed him standing beside a lake.
I added Naomi’s name to the search.
Nothing.
I told myself that was good.
Then I told myself I had no business searching at all.
The divorce was final.
Victor’s choices belonged to Victor.
Naomi’s baby belonged to whatever future Naomi had made for herself.
My daughters and I were leaving the next day.
I folded two sweaters and put both into the wrong suitcase.
My phone buzzed again.
I thought we could speak privately before Victor learns I contacted you.
That changed things.
I picked up the phone.
Why are you contacting me?
His reply came less than a minute later.
Because Naomi told me you were the reason she chose Victor.
I stared at the screen.
There are insults so confusing they require several seconds before they can hurt.
I typed, I don’t know you.
I know.
Then how could I be the reason?
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then returned.
Because she said Victor was unhappy with you and leaving anyway.
I sat down on the floor beside an open suitcase.
That sentence was not new.
Victor had said versions of it himself.
We had been over for years.
He had stayed only because of the girls.
Naomi had not broken anything that was not already broken.
People liked to believe betrayal happened only after a marriage died because otherwise they had to admit they had helped kill something still breathing.
I typed, What do you want from me?
A few moments passed.
Then he sent a photograph.
I almost did not open it.
The thumbnail showed two people at a restaurant table.
When I enlarged it, Naomi appeared on the left, wearing a green dress I recognized.
I recognized it because she had worn the same dress to a Reynolds company holiday dinner the previous December.
The man beside her was probably Daniel.
Dark hair.
Square glasses.
One hand resting on the table near hers.
The date stamp on the image placed it six weeks before Victor had first admitted sleeping with Naomi.
That still did not tell me why Daniel wanted me involved.
Another message arrived.
We were together for eighteen months.
I called him.
He answered before the first ring had fully finished.
“Penelope?”
His voice was lower than I expected.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for calling.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“I know.”
“Start with why you have my number.”
He hesitated.
“Naomi had it.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“I saw it in a contact sheet she kept for Victor’s family.”
“What contact sheet?”
“For emergencies.”
I stood.
“That still doesn’t explain why you have it.”
Another pause.
“I took a picture of it.”
I almost ended the call.
“You stole my number.”
“I copied it.”
“That distinction matters more to you than it does to me.”
“You’re right.”
He sounded embarrassed rather than defensive.
That helped slightly.
Not enough.
“Why were you in a position to photograph anything belonging to Naomi?”
“Because until three months ago, I was still spending nights at her apartment.”
The room went very quiet.
“You said you were together for eighteen months.”
“We were.”
“While she was with Victor?”
“Yes.”
The word came softly.
There was no pride in it.
No satisfaction either.
Just fatigue.
“How much did you know?”
“About Victor?”
“Yes.”
“At first, nothing.”
“And later?”
“She told me he was separated.”
“He wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“You didn’t check?”
“I did eventually.”
“Eventually.”
“I’m not asking you to think well of me.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I deserve that.”
I closed my eyes.
Men had developed a remarkable fondness for telling me what they deserved.
“Why contact me instead of Victor?”
“Because if I contact Victor directly, Naomi will say I’m a jealous ex trying to destroy her relationship.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
His answer came fast enough to make me listen.
“I don’t want her back.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to know whether the baby could be mine.”
My stomach tightened.
“That sounds like something you should discuss with Naomi.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“She blocked me.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
The timing landed cleanly.
After the ultrasound.
“Did she tell you about the appointment?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know something happened?”
“She called me from the parking garage.”
I stood slowly.
“What did she say?”
“She asked when we last slept together.”
I gripped the back of the chair.
“And what did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“What truth?”
He gave me a date.
I did not have Victor’s timeline memorized.
I did not need to.
May you like
The date fell inside the conception window Samantha had described.
“You understand I’m not the person who can help you establish paternity.”
