Chương 5
“When you saw me on the floor, were you surprised?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the whole truth.”
He looked down at his hands.
“No,” he said after a moment.
Evelyn waited.
“I was surprised she touched you. I wasn’t surprised something was wrong.”
“How long have you known?”
“I knew you were unhappy.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
He rubbed the indentation his watch had left on his wrist.
“I told myself the tension was temporary,” he said. “The pregnancy. Moving into the house. My mother’s anxiety. Your father dying last year. The company investigation. I kept naming reasons because reasons sounded solvable.”
“And I sounded difficult.”
“I never thought you were difficult.”
“You thought I was sensitive.”
His silence answered.
Evelyn turned her face away.
Graham leaned forward, then stopped before touching her.
“My mother can turn any room into a test,” he said. “When I was a child, the easiest way through was to answer the question she wanted answered. If she said someone was overreacting, you agreed. If she said nothing happened, nothing happened. I got very good at keeping the day moving.”
“So did I.”
“Yes.”
“Except you could leave.”
“I thought I had.”
She looked back at him.
He held her gaze.
“That’s the truth,” he said. “I thought marrying you meant I’d built a life outside her. Then my father died, and the trusts changed, and the company nearly collapsed, and I went back to her for help. I told myself it was temporary. I moved us into her house because it was close to the office and had room for the baby. I kept calling dependence strategy.”
“You let her make me pay for it.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without defense.
Evelyn’s throat tightened.
“I need you to understand something,” she said. “Seeing it once doesn’t make you the person who saved me.”
His face tightened, but he nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
“Then I’ll learn.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanting it made her angry.
At dawn, labor returned with enough force to end the conversation. The world contracted to the bed rail beneath her fingers, the pressure across her pelvis, Graham counting too quickly until she told him to stop, then counting again more slowly.
June returned with her hair still damp from a shower. She brought a toothbrush for Evelyn and one for Graham, though his was a child’s toothbrush decorated with green dinosaurs.
“It was all the pharmacy had,” she said.
“The pharmacy had only dinosaur toothbrushes?” Graham asked.
“The adult ones were morally unsuitable.”
He took it without argument.
By midmorning, Evelyn was seven centimeters dilated. The baby had shifted lower. She requested an epidural after trying for another hour without one, then cried because she felt she had failed at something no one had asked her to prove.
The anesthesiologist, a cheerful man with silver glasses, waited until she could sit still.
“You have one job,” he said. “Don’t move.”
“I thought my job was having the baby.”
“That’s your afternoon assignment.”
Graham stood in front of her while she curled forward. She gripped his shoulders and smelled hospital soap on his collar. When the needle went in, his face turned gray.
“You’re not supposed to faint,” Evelyn whispered.
“I’m not.”
“You look terrible.”
“I’m trying to be supportive.”
“You look haunted.”
“Supportively haunted.”
She laughed, then rested her forehead against him.
For a brief moment they were themselves again.
The relief from the epidural came gradually. Evelyn’s hands unclenched. The room widened. She could hear carts in the hallway, the soft beeping of the monitor, June arguing with someone by text about whether her son had packed his lunch.
Graham’s phone continued to vibrate.
At noon, he finally looked.
There were thirty-one missed calls. Twelve came from Lenora. The rest came from executives, board members, his attorney, and the head of corporate communications.
A message from Marcus read: Your mother called an emergency board session for 3. She says you are incapacitated. Call me before this gets worse.
Graham showed the screen to Evelyn.
“You should go,” she said.
He stared at her.
“It’s your company.”
“No.”
“You’ve spent your whole life choosing it.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
June looked up from her phone but remained silent.
Evelyn adjusted the blanket over her knees. “If you stay because you think this is the grand gesture that fixes everything, it doesn’t.”
“I’m staying because my son is being born.”
“And because you’re afraid I’ll decide something while you’re gone.”
A muscle moved in his jaw.
“That too,” he admitted.
The honesty unsettled her more than denial would have.
She looked toward the window. Rainwater streaked the glass, blurring the city into gray shapes.
“What happens if you miss the board meeting?”
“My mother may try to suspend me.”
“Can she?”
“With enough votes.”
“Does she have them?”
“She has the family trust’s shares and probably two directors who owe her favors. Marcus will oppose her. Ellen Cho will too, unless she thinks the conflict threatens the company.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
June put down her phone. “I’m going to say something vulgar about billionaires, but I’m trying to grow.”
Graham ignored her. “I can join remotely from here.”
Evelyn pictured him in the corner of the delivery room, speaking about fiduciary duty while she pushed their child into the world.
“No.”
He misunderstood. “I won’t go.”
“No board meeting in here.”
“Then I’ll miss it.”
“Call Marcus. Tell him the truth.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Which truth?”
“That your mother assaulted your pregnant wife and you’re at the hospital.”
June nodded. “That one has a memorable shape.”
Graham walked to the far side of the room and made the call.
May you like
He did not lower his voice enough to hide it.
“Marcus, I’m not incapacitated. Evelyn is in labor. My mother physically assaulted her tonight, and I witnessed it. I will not attend a board session she called to exploit this situation. Send that in writing to every director.”
