Chương 6
Claire looked at her.
This time, she did not decide.
Emily unlocked the door but left the security chain attached.
Daniel stared through the narrow opening.
For several seconds neither spoke.
He had changed his shirt. There was a small cut near his lower lip, likely from shaving. Emily had kissed that place so often her body registered it before her mind did.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She waited.
He put one hand against the doorframe. “I’m sorry I laughed. I’m sorry I made the toast. I’m sorry I didn’t shut it down.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I thought you’d roll your eyes and move on.”
“Why?”
“Because we joke.”
“Not like that.”
“No. Not like that.”
Rainwater darkened the shoulders of his coat.
Behind him, a car slowed on the street. The driver lifted a phone toward the house.
Daniel noticed and stepped closer to the door. “Can I come inside?”
“No.”
His jaw moved. “Emily, there are photographers outside my parents’ house. Ryan’s getting death threats. My office is receiving calls. We need to stop feeding this.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Walking out said something.”
“You mean it made you look bad.”
“It made us look broken.”
“We are broken.”
His face tightened.
“After one mistake?”
Emily looked at him through the four-inch opening.
“Was it one?”
“What does that mean?”
“Did you know she bought the uniform?”
“I knew there was a joke gift.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That it was an apron or something.”
“An apron.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say ‘learning the routine early’?”
Daniel looked past her into the house.
The answer arrived before he spoke.
“She gave you the line,” Emily said.
“No.”
“You practiced it.”
“We talked about possible jokes.”
“When?”
“At the rehearsal dinner.”
“Last night?”
“It wasn’t a meeting, Emily. She said she had a gag gift. I said something stupid.”
“Did you know the name tag said Mrs. Whitmore?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Daniel.”
“I saw it before dinner.”
The porch seemed to tilt.
“You saw it.”
“Briefly.”
“And you let her give it to me.”
“I didn’t understand how you would take it.”
“How else could I take it?”
“As teasing. As you joining the family. My grandmother gave my mother an apron at her shower.”
“Did your father toast to training her?”
“No.”
“Did two hundred people laugh?”
“No.”
“Did the apron call her a housekeeper?”
Daniel’s voice hardened. “I said it was wrong.”
“When?”
“To my mother. I said the uniform was too much.”
“But she did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And you helped.”
He looked down.
Emily felt a coldness move through her, not the violent shock of the night before but something quieter and more durable.
“You knew it might hurt me,” she said. “You just thought I would absorb it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is exactly what happened.”
“People make bad calls.”
“Yes.”
“People forgive them too.”
Claire shifted behind Emily, but said nothing.
Daniel looked past her. “Can we speak without an audience?”
Emily nearly closed the door.
Then she remembered all the private rooms where Daniel had controlled the temperature of reality. The car after he insulted Nina. Their kitchen after Margaret criticized Emily’s career. The hotel balcony in Newport when he told her she was embarrassing him by refusing to change dresses.
“No,” she said. “We can’t.”
His eyes returned to her. Something defensive settled across his face.
“So your mother gets to be involved in our marriage now?”
“My mother stood up.”
“I’m standing here.”
“A day late.”
He flinched.
Emily hated that she felt the flinch in her own chest.
“I love you,” he said.
She wanted the words to restore the scale of things. Four years against twelve seconds. Shared keys, passwords, vacations, flu medicine, grocery lists, a signed marriage license. Surely a life should weigh more than a uniform.
Then she remembered the toast was not twelve seconds. It had required planning. Consent. A choice made repeatedly.
“What does loving me ask you to do right now?” she said.
Daniel frowned.
“Not what do you want me to do. What does it ask you to do?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
A camera shutter clicked from the street.
Daniel turned sharply. “This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“We need a statement.”
Emily laughed once. “That’s your answer.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“My job removed me from a project this morning.”
“What?”
“The South Quay project.”
Daniel’s expression changed too quickly.
Emily saw recognition.
“You knew that might happen,” she said.
“No.”
“You knew.”
“I knew there could be a conflict issue.”
“When?”
“Emily, it’s complicated.”
“When?”
“My father called Alan last night.”
The words were quiet.
Emily held the door so hard the edge pressed into her palm.
“Your father called my boss?”
“To reassure him this wouldn’t affect the bid.”
“And Alan removed me.”
“I didn’t ask him to.”
“Did your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know he was calling?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell me?”
“There wasn’t time.”
“You came here to ask me for a statement.”
“I came here because you’re my wife.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she closed the door.
The latch caught against the chain. She released it, closed the door fully, and turned the lock.
Daniel knocked once.
“Emily.”
She walked away.
He remained on the porch for six minutes. Claire watched through the curtain without comment. When his car finally pulled away, Emily was in the kitchen staring at the eggs Claire had made hours earlier.
They had gone rubbery and gray around the edges.
She ate them anyway.
On Monday morning, Emily woke at five forty-two, the time her alarm usually rang. She showered, put on black trousers, and packed her work bag before remembering she had been told not to come in.
Claire found her standing in the front hall with one shoe on.
May you like
“You don’t have to stay here,” Claire said carefully. “But maybe work isn’t the place today.”
Emily looked down at the shoe in her hand.
