Chương 10
Halfway up, the baby dropped his stuffed fox.
Daniel bent to retrieve it.
Emily watched from the kitchen.
She felt love.
Then anger.
Then shame for the love.
Then irritation at the shame.
She opened the dishwasher too hard.
One of the racks jumped its track.
“Great.”
For five minutes she fought with it.
It was strangely satisfying to have a problem made entirely of metal and plastic.
The dishwasher did not lie.
It did not have motives.
It either fit or it did not.
By Friday, Daniel’s company had lost one client.
Not because of Vanessa’s conduct.
Because of the speculation around Daniel.
Marcus, his business partner, told him over speakerphone while Emily sat across the kitchen table.
“They don’t want controversy.”
Daniel stared at the grain in the wood.
“Did you tell them we terminated Vanessa’s project access?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They asked whether you had a relationship with her.”
Emily looked away.
Daniel said, “What did you tell them?”
“That you denied an affair.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It’s true.”
“It sounds like a politician.”
Marcus sighed through the phone.
“I’m not your marriage counselor, Dan. I’m trying to keep fourteen people employed.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“What do you need?”
“I need you off client-facing work for two weeks.”
Emily looked back at him.
Daniel did not answer immediately.
His company had been his identity long before Emily met him.
He was good at rooms full of difficult people.
He liked turning conflict into schedules and contracts.
He liked being needed.
Especially by people who paid him for it.
“Okay,” he said.
Marcus paused.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That easy?”
“No.”
Daniel ended the call ten minutes later.
He sat still.
Emily poured water into Noah’s cup.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“At Marcus?”
“A little.”
“At yourself?”
“A lot.”
She put the cup on the high-chair tray.
Noah threw it immediately.
Daniel picked it up.
Emily said, “You can be angry at Vanessa too.”
“I am.”
“You act like you’re not allowed.”
Daniel washed the cup.
“She pushed our son toward a fireplace because of something she believed about me.”
Emily leaned against the counter.
“Something you helped her believe.”
“Yes.”
“And something she chose to turn into violence.”
He looked at her.
She held his gaze.
“Both can be true.”
His shoulders lowered slightly.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do something with every feeling.”
Daniel gave a tired laugh.
“My therapist said that.”
“Your therapist sounds expensive.”
“He is.”
“Good.”
They stood in the kitchen while Noah slapped banana against his tray.
For a moment the house felt almost peaceful.
Then Daniel said, “There’s something else.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“Vanessa sent me an email in January from a private account.”
Emily waited.
“I deleted it.”
“What did it say?”
“That she thought I was afraid to admit I’d chosen the wrong life.”
Emily’s face went cold.
“And?”
“I told her never to send me anything like that again.”
“In writing?”
“Yes.”
“You still have your reply?”
“No.”
“Because you deleted the thread.”
“Yes.”
Emily pushed away from the counter.
“Why?”
“I was afraid you’d see it.”
“Because?”
“Because I knew how bad it looked.”
She laughed without humor.
“There it is.”
Daniel nodded.
“I asked our IT company if they can recover anything from backups.”
Emily stared at him.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Maya said anything showing her state of mind before the lodge could matter. And because I’m done deciding what information is too ugly to keep.”
Emily looked at him for a long time.
“That might hurt you.”
“I know.”
“It might prove you encouraged her more than you remember.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“You still asked?”
“Yes.”
Something moved inside Emily.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But perhaps the first recognizable piece of trust she had seen in months.
It was small enough to miss.
She did not tell him.
The messages were partially recovered.
Daniel and Emily reviewed them with Maya the following week.
The thread made neither Daniel nor Vanessa look the way either would have preferred.
Vanessa wrote that Emily had turned Daniel into “a man afraid to want anything.”
Daniel replied that Vanessa did not understand his marriage.
Vanessa said she understood him better than Emily did.
Daniel answered, “Sometimes I think you do.”
Emily stopped reading.
Daniel sat beside her in Maya’s office.
“I forgot that line.”
Emily believed him.
That was almost worse.
For Daniel, it had been a sentence.
For Vanessa, perhaps it had been architecture.
Maya said nothing.
Emily continued.
Later in the thread, Vanessa wrote:
Then stop pretending you don’t know what this is.
Daniel responded:
I know exactly what this is. It’s crossing a line. Don’t contact me personally again.
Vanessa replied:
You’ll change your mind.
Daniel did not answer.
Maya looked at him.
“Any contact after this?”
“For work.”
“Personal?”
“A few times. I sometimes responded.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Maya asked, “Why?”
Daniel’s answer came slowly.
“Because I didn’t want to be cruel.”
Emily looked at him.
Maya did too.
Daniel gave a humorless smile.
“I hear it now.”
The recovered thread became part of the evidence Daniel voluntarily provided to investigators.
His attorney warned him that selective excerpts could become public later.
Daniel gave permission anyway.
That night, Emily found him sitting in the dark living room after Noah was asleep.
“You okay?”
Daniel looked up.
“You told me not to ask you that.”
“That rule expired.”
He smiled faintly.
Then looked toward the window.
“I used to think being a good person meant never making anyone feel rejected.”
Emily sat in the chair across from him.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It made me feel useful.”
“And look where useful got you.”
“Yeah.”
She tucked one foot under her.
“Do you want me to tell you you’re a good person?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
May you like
Emily looked at him for several seconds.
“I don’t think you’re a bad one.”
