Chương 13
“I should have been there,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I can’t fix that.”
“No.”
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
“For once, you may have to live with something you can’t reorganize.”
He accepted the sentence without defense.
They sat in silence.
From the kitchen came the sound of Leah arguing with Ben about whether soup could remain safe in the refrigerator for six days. Ben said it depended on the soup. Leah said bacteria did not respect recipes.
Michael looked toward the doorway.
“I miss our house,” he said.
Catherine almost said, You are in our house.
Then she remembered he meant the life inside it.
“So do I.”
He looked at her quickly.
“Come home.”
“No.”
“You said you miss it.”
“I miss what I thought it was.”
“We can make it something else.”
“You’re still negotiating.”
“I’m asking.”
“You’re offering a future before you’ve told me the full past.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“Did it happen once?”
“Yes.”
“Was January the only time you slept with her?”
He held her gaze.
“Yes.”
“Did you kiss her before that?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell her you loved her?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Catherine looked at the wall behind him.
Michael continued quickly. “I thought I did. I was confused.”
“No. You were clear enough to say it.”
“I love you differently.”
“That sentence is not helping.”
“I know.”
“Did you plan to leave me?”
“I imagined it.”
The room seemed to tilt, though Catherine was sitting still.
“When?”
“During the winter.”
“While we were painting the nursery?”
“Yes.”
“While you argued with me about the name?”
“Yes.”
“While you put your hand on my stomach every night waiting for her to kick?”
Michael’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Catherine stood.
Her body protested. She ignored it.
The movement startled Eleanor, who began to cry in Michael’s arms.
He rose automatically.
Catherine took the baby from him.
“You need to leave.”
“Catherine.”
“Now.”
“I answered you.”
“You did.”
“You said you wanted the truth.”
“I didn’t say the truth wouldn’t have consequences.”
He stared at her.
Eleanor cried against Catherine’s chest.
Michael picked up his coat.
At the door, he said, “I never stopped choosing you.”
Catherine looked over the baby’s head.
“You chose yourself,” she said. “You just kept coming home afterward.”
Three days later, Amber’s recordings leaked.
Not all of them. Only two short clips, both damaging to Michael and favorable to Amber. One captured him saying the marriage was emotionally over. The other captured his promise to handle her position after the merger.
An anonymous account sent them to an industry reporter.
Amber denied responsibility.
Michael accused her through counsel.
The board placed both Michael and Amber on temporary leave while outside lawyers conducted an investigation.
Employees began calling Catherine.
Some were angry.
A project manager named Celeste said her husband had just lost his job and asked whether Catherine understood what another failed deal would do to families.
A senior designer left a voicemail saying she supported Catherine and had watched Amber receive opportunities no one could explain.
The receptionist, whose husband had cancer, sent only a photograph of a hospital waiting room and the words I’m sorry. I know what it is to wait for someone who should come.
Catherine listened to that message twice.
Public opinion did not divide cleanly.
Some people believed Michael had abused his power.
Some believed Amber had seduced him and then weaponized private recordings.
Some believed Catherine had leaked everything for leverage in a divorce.
A photograph from the hospital corridor appeared online. It showed Michael reaching toward the wheelchair while Daniel stood between them. Catherine’s face was partially visible. Amber stood behind Michael holding the phone.
No one knew who had taken it.
The caption called it a confrontation following a difficult delivery.
A gossip site described Daniel as Catherine’s “protective mystery doctor.”
Daniel’s hospital issued a statement saying patient privacy prevented comment.
Michael sent Catherine a single message.
I am sorry you were dragged into this.
She replied: I was always in it.
The next morning, Daniel called.
“I wanted you to hear this directly,” he said. “The hospital is reviewing the photograph.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“Because of what you said to Michael?”
“No.”
“Because people think you’re my mystery doctor?”
His silence lasted long enough to surprise her.
“That phrase has reached the staff lounge,” he said.
Catherine laughed.
The laugh startled Eleanor awake.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“Are you sure you’re not in trouble?”
“I followed hospital policy. Security documented the interaction. Your visitor restriction was your request.”
“Michael says you escalated it.”
“Michael was not my patient.”
She looked out Leah’s guest-room window. A robin stood on the fence with a piece of grass in its beak.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For not making me explain why I needed him to step back.”
Daniel was quiet.
Then he said, “Most people who need space spend too much time proving they deserve it.”
The sentence stayed with her after the call.
A week after Eleanor’s birth, Catherine returned to the Lincoln Park house.
Michael had moved into his mother’s condominium near the lake. He had left the kitchen clean, the bed made, and every lamp turned off except the one in the nursery.
Catherine stood in the foyer while Leah carried in bags.
The house sounded enormous without him.
For the first hour, Catherine moved from room to room looking for evidence of change. There was none. His shoes remained in the mudroom. His shirts hung in the closet. His coffee beans filled the grinder. A half-read biography lay facedown on his bedside table.
She picked up the book and saw the indentation his glasses had left on the page.
Eleven years could not be removed as efficiently as a suitcase.
May you like
In the nursery, Eleanor slept beneath the wooden birds.
Catherine sat in the chair and listened to the heating system click through the walls.
