Chương 9
Emily put the laptop into its sleeve.
“Anything else?”
“He asked if the rumors about me and Vanessa were true.”
Emily stopped.
“What rumors?”
Daniel looked exhausted.
“People from work knew she had feelings for me.”
Her stomach dropped.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said nobody knew.”
“I said I didn’t tell anybody.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
Emily stood.
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
She walked to the window.
Outside, children dragged sleds across a snowbank.
One little boy fell face-first and came up laughing.
Emily watched his father brush snow off his hat.
“Did people think you were sleeping with her?”
“Some probably did.”
“And you stayed on projects with her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel joined her at the window but kept several feet between them.
“Because she’s good at her job.”
Emily looked at him.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
He rubbed his thumb across the edge of his phone.
“I didn’t want to look guilty.”
She stared.
“If I cut her off completely, I thought people would assume something happened.”
“So you kept her close to protect your reputation.”
“Yes.”
“And by keeping her close, you made everyone assume something happened.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked outside again.
“That’s almost impressive.”
Daniel exhaled through his nose.
“I deserve that.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Turn everything I say into punishment you nobly accept.”
He looked at her.
“I’m not trying to.”
“I know. That’s why it’s annoying.”
For the first time in days, the corner of his mouth moved.
Emily saw it.
She almost smiled back.
Then her phone buzzed.
The video had reached a local news account.
The rest of Sunday disappeared into practical decisions.
They left the lodge shortly after noon.
Richard’s retirement dinner was canceled.
Nobody argued.
Daniel drove while Emily sat in back beside Noah.
The baby slept through the first hour.
At a gas station outside Idaho Springs, Emily bought crackers, water, and a terrible coffee that tasted burned.
Daniel bought nothing.
“You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll get a headache.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
Emily tore open the crackers.
“I’m irritated that I still know exactly when you’ll get a headache.”
Daniel leaned against the SUV.
“I still know you’re going to eat four crackers and then forget the bag exists.”
She looked down.
She had eaten four.
Neither of them spoke.
Then Daniel took the bag from her and held it out.
“Five.”
She ate another cracker.
It was ridiculous.
It helped.
At home in Denver, Noah reacted to the familiar living room as though returning from war.
He crawled directly to the basket of toys and pulled out a wooden ring.
Emily sat on the floor.
Daniel carried luggage upstairs.
The house looked exactly as they had left it Friday morning.
A mug in the drying rack.
Mail on the console.
One of Noah’s socks under the coffee table.
Emily picked up the sock.
She began to cry.
Not because of the sock.
Because nothing had changed.
That seemed offensive.
Daniel came downstairs and found her sitting with her back against the sofa.
He stopped.
“Can I sit?”
Emily nodded.
He sat on the floor across from her.
Noah crawled between them carrying the wooden ring in his mouth.
Daniel took it gently.
“Not a snack.”
Noah protested.
Emily wiped her face.
Daniel said, “I called a therapist.”
She stared at him.
“For us?”
“For me.”
That surprised her.
“I have an appointment Tuesday.”
“You found someone on Sunday?”
“My insurance portal has telehealth.”
Emily nodded.
He looked down at his hands.
“I keep thinking if I’d been five feet farther away—”
“Don’t.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t get to build a version where you fail to save him and torture yourself with it.”
Daniel looked up.
Emily’s voice shook.
“I’m already doing that. I don’t want company.”
He swallowed.
“Okay.”
She held the small sock in her fist.
After a while, Daniel said, “What do you need from me tonight?”
Emily looked around the living room.
Laundry.
Bottles.
A pile of mail.
Noah’s dinner.
The same ordinary machinery that had been waiting for them.
“Wash the bottles.”
Daniel nodded.
“And make Noah dinner.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t ask me if I’m okay every ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
He stood.
Emily looked up at him.
“One more thing.”
He waited.
“Sleep in the guest room.”
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“Okay.”
He walked to the kitchen.
Emily listened to water run in the sink.
On Tuesday, Vanessa was released pending further proceedings.
Emily learned through Maya, not Daniel.
That helped.
Maya also told them the investigation was continuing and that formal charging decisions could change as evidence was reviewed.
Emily did not ask for predictions.
She had begun to dislike predictions.
Vanessa’s attorney released a short public statement saying the viral clip lacked context and that Vanessa denied intending harm to any child.
Daniel read it in his office.
Emily read it while sitting on the bathroom floor because Noah had crawled into the empty bathtub fully clothed and refused to leave.
She stared at the statement.
Noah banged a plastic cup against the tub.
“Excellent timing.”
He banged it again.
Emily set the phone facedown.
She did not respond publicly.
That evening, Daniel came home at six.
Not seven-thirty.
Not eight.
Six.
Emily noticed and resented noticing.
He took off his coat.
“How was your day?”
“Wet.”
He looked confused.
“Noah learned the dog’s water bowl exists.”
They did not own a dog.
Daniel frowned.
“The neighbor brought Tucker over.”
“Oh.”
“Noah spent twenty minutes trying to climb inside the bowl.”
Daniel smiled.
“That sounds right.”
Emily almost told him about Vanessa’s statement.
Then remembered he already knew.
Maya had sent both of them the same email.
A shared fact.
No detective work required.
Daniel rolled up his sleeves.
“I’ll do bedtime.”
Emily looked at him.
“You have a therapy appointment.”
“At eight.”
“Noah goes down at seven-thirty.”
“Exactly.”
May you like
She nodded.
Daniel climbed the stairs with Noah.
