Chương 5
“I didn’t know she was coming up here.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
The baby started to fuss.
Emily turned away, found the bottle she had prepared earlier, tested it on her wrist and sat.
Daniel waited until their son settled.
Then he said, “I was afraid you’d ask me not to do it.”
She looked at him.
“Which part?”
“Leaving the company.”
“Would I have?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you didn’t ask.”
“No.”
There was the marriage problem.
Not Margaret.
Not the deed.
Not the suitcase.
That.
Daniel had spent four years protecting Emily from difficult decisions by making them first.
At the beginning she had liked it.
He booked restaurants without endless texts. He bought plane tickets. He remembered insurance deadlines. He negotiated with contractors. He knew which plumber to call and which pediatrician had Sunday hours.
After their wedding, he handled the accountant.
When Emily’s car died, he ordered another before she had decided whether she wanted the same model.
She had called him efficient.
Margaret had called him decisive.
Neither word seemed flattering at one in the morning.
“You were afraid I’d disagree,” Emily said.
“Yes.”
“So you decided for both of us.”
He did not defend himself.
She appreciated that and resented having to appreciate it.
“Why the deed?”
Daniel’s eyes moved toward the fireplace.
“The penthouse belonged to me personally. Not the company. Not the trust. Dad transferred it years ago.”
“I know.”
“I wanted something that nobody in my family could threaten you with if I left Hale Alpine.”
Emily gave a tired laugh.
“Your mother threatened me with it tonight.”
“I know.”
“She thought she could throw me out.”
“I know.”
“And apparently I owned the place while she was doing it.”
“Yes.”
“That would almost be funny if I weren’t so tired.”
Daniel nodded.
Emily fed the baby.
His eyelashes rested against his cheeks.
Tiny.
Perfectly unconcerned with deeds.
“Why are you leaving?” she asked.
Daniel was quiet long enough that she looked up.
“My mother told the board you were unstable.”
Emily stopped breathing for a beat.
“What?”
“Not tonight.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
The bottle trembled in Emily’s hand.
Daniel leaned forward.
“She said you were having postpartum mental health problems and I was distracted from work because of it. She suggested I take an extended leave and give Martin operational control.”
Emily’s face felt hot.
“Martin who?”
“My cousin.”
“I know who Martin is. I meant—why would she do that?”
“Because I told her she wasn’t allowed to stay here after the baby came home.”
Emily looked toward the dark entry hall.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Daniel stared at the table.
“I also told her you and I were updating our estate documents.”
Emily waited.
“And?”
“And if something happened to me, she wouldn’t have any decision-making role regarding the baby or you.”
Emily almost dropped the bottle.
“Why would she think she would?”
“Because my father’s documents were structured that way for years. Family trustees. Family decision-making. She assumed mine would be similar.”
“Were they?”
“Before we got married.”
Emily swallowed.
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters tonight.”
“I know.”
“No, Daniel. You keep saying you know after I discover something.”
He looked at her.
The sentence stayed between them.
She regretted that one too.
Not because it was false.
Because his face showed that he had been saying the same thing to himself.
The baby finished half the bottle and stopped.
Emily set it aside.
Daniel came over and held out his hands.
This time she gave him the baby without hesitation.
He placed the newborn against his shoulder and began patting his back.
Too hard.
Emily winced.
“Gentler.”
Daniel immediately softened his hand.
The baby burped.
They both smiled.
Then neither knew what to say.
At two, Emily went to bed.
Daniel slept on the floor beside the bassinet.
She did not ask him to.
She also did not tell him to leave.
In the morning, the storm had weakened enough for the windows to show the first pale shape of the mountains.
Emily woke at seven with the baby beside her and no memory of bringing him into bed.
Panic struck so fast she sat upright.
Then she saw Daniel in the chair.
“He’s in the bassinet,” he said.
Emily looked.
The bundle beside her was a rolled bathrobe.
She covered her face.
“Oh my God.”
“You never brought him into bed.”
“I thought—”
“I know.”
Her hands shook.
Daniel remained seated.
He did not say, You’re fine.
He did not say, You’re exhausted.
He did not repeat any comforting phrase Margaret could later turn into evidence against her.
He simply waited.
Emily looked at the bassinet.
Their son slept on his back, one arm raised beside his head.
“When did I feed him?”
“Five twenty.”
“You fed him?”
“You did. I was awake.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You were awake for it.”
“That’s not better.”
“No.”
Emily lowered her feet to the carpet.
Her incision hurt.
Daniel stood.
“Do you want coffee?”
She looked at him.
“Is that your solution?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Do you still want coffee?”
“Yes.”
He went to make it.
That small exchange helped more than reassurance would have.
At eight thirty, Emily called her obstetrician.
She had not intended to.
For ten minutes she stared at the patient portal and hated Margaret for making the call feel like evidence.
Then she hated herself for letting Margaret influence whether she sought medical help.
The nurse listened.
Emily described the sleep confusion.
The nurse asked direct questions about mood, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, sleep, appetite and whether Emily felt safe with herself and the baby.
Emily answered honestly.
Yes, she had imagined terrible accidents.
No, she did not want them to happen.
Yes, she sometimes checked whether the baby was breathing so many times she lost count.
No, she had never thought about hurting him.
May you like
Yes, she was sleeping badly even when Daniel had the baby.
The nurse arranged a same-day appointment.
