Chương 5
Diane knew all of that.
She had offered them the guest suite precisely because she knew all of that.
“You see?” Diane said. “This is what I’m talking about. Nobody thinks ahead. I’m the only person in this family who thinks past the next five minutes.”
Emily looked at her.
Then at Noah.
He said, “We’ll figure it out.”
Diane shook her head.
“You always say that.”
The words had the easy precision of an old weapon.
Noah almost reacted.
Emily saw it.
Whatever thirty-one years of being Diane’s son had trained into him rose behind his eyes: the need to defend, explain, prove.
He pressed his lips together.
It passed.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
Diane stared at him.
“Over this?”
Emily answered before Noah could.
“Yes.”
Diane’s face turned toward her.
Emily’s legs were shaking. She hated that they were shaking. She also knew Diane could not see them beneath the marble island.
“For tonight,” Emily added, because she refused to promise more while adrenaline was deciding things for her. “We’re leaving tonight.”
Diane looked almost relieved by the limitation.
Emily noticed that too.
Then the younger officer stepped beside Diane and asked her to turn around.
The relief vanished.
Noah moved closer to Emily.
She did not lean into him.
Not yet.
They left through the front door at 9:47 p.m.
Emily knew the time because her phone battery was at twelve percent and she checked it while Noah carried two overnight bags to the car.
Nobody had packed properly.
Noah had thrown diapers, three onesies, two shirts for himself, Emily’s toothbrush, the breast pump, a pair of leggings, and six unmatched socks into a navy duffel. He forgot formula because Eli did not usually take it. He forgot his own toothbrush. He remembered the portable white-noise machine even though neither of them remembered watching him pack it.
Leah stood in the doorway while the officers remained inside.
“I can bring the rest tomorrow,” she said.
Noah did not answer.
Emily did.
“Thank you.”
Leah’s eyes filled.
“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
Emily nearly said, Neither did I.
Instead she said, “Okay.”
It was not forgiveness.
It was not blame.
It was the only word she had.
At the hotel, Eli refused to sleep.
For two hours he screamed every time Emily put him in the portable crib.
Noah walked the carpet with him while Emily sat on the edge of the bed in a hotel robe because the front of her pink dress was still damp from the sink. The bruise had darkened to purple-red. She had taken photographs under the bathroom light after Officer Hall suggested documenting changes.
At midnight Noah ordered two turkey sandwiches from a delivery app.
At twelve-thirty, they arrived with no mustard and one napkin.
Emily laughed when she saw the napkin.
Noah looked at her.
“What?”
“One napkin.”
He looked inside the bag.
“Maybe they think marriage means sharing.”
She laughed again.
Then she started crying.
Not loudly.
She covered her face with both hands and bent forward, and the crying came out in short breaths she could not make behave.
Noah put Eli down on the bed between them and sat beside her.
He did not touch her.
That was new.
He waited.
After a while Emily wiped her face on the single napkin.
“Perfect,” she said.
Noah looked at the wet paper in her hand.
“Worth the fourteen-dollar delivery fee.”
She took a breath.
Then another.
“I hate her.”
He looked down.
Emily said, “And I hate that I hate her.”
“You’re allowed.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m allowed.”
He nodded immediately.
“Sorry.”
She rubbed the napkin between her fingers until it tore.
“I need you to stop managing my feelings.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“I know.”
Eli made a small grunt.
Both of them looked down.
Noah touched one finger to the baby’s hand.
Emily said, “When you said I was never staying there again…”
He looked at her.
“You sounded like her.”
The sentence hurt him.
Good, she thought again.
And again the goodness and ugliness sat beside each other without canceling out.
“I meant I’d never ask you to go back.”
“That isn’t what you said.”
“No.”
“You said it like you were deciding.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You’re right.”
Emily waited for the defense.
It did not come.
Finally he said, “I should have said we don’t have to go back.”
She looked at him.
“That would’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry.”
This time she let him say it.
They ate turkey sandwiches at one in the morning while their son slept between them, one tiny fist beside his cheek.
The next day was worse.
Not because anything dramatic happened.
Because everything practical did.
The hotel room cost more than they could reasonably sustain. The insurer wanted another contractor estimate. The restoration company said the condo would not be ready for at least eighteen days. Emily discovered that half of Eli’s bottles were still at Diane’s house. Noah had a nine-thirty meeting he could not miss without jeopardizing a project already running late.
At eight fifteen, someone from the police department called Emily for a follow-up.
At eight twenty-two, her mother called from Ohio because Leah had called her.
At eight thirty, Emily’s therapist sent a portal message asking whether she wanted an earlier appointment.
At eight thirty-six, Eli spit milk down the only clean shirt Emily had.
By nine, she wanted the previous night back because at least the previous night had contained one obvious problem at a time.
Noah stood near the hotel desk wearing yesterday’s shirt.
“I can cancel.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“You already missed half of yesterday.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because one of us needs to keep earning money.”
His face changed.
She regretted the sentence.
Then resented having to regret it.
Noah took a breath.
“Okay.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Don’t.”
May you like
“Right.”
They were both quiet.
