Chapter 2
It was almost ten when I got home.
Daniel was not there.
I took the cream envelope from my purse and placed it in the center of the dining table.
Then I turned off every light except the one above it.
My anniversary reservation was still on the screen when I opened my phone.
I closed it and wrote down the time I had seen them enter the other restaurant.
I did not know what I would need to ask when Daniel got home.
The boy's name was easier to hold onto than the rest of it.
I placed the phone beside the envelope and left his usual chair pulled out, where he could see both as soon as he came in.
At 11:07, I heard the lock turn.
Daniel stepped inside and stopped when he saw me.
"You're still awake?"
"Did you finish with the client?"
His hand paused on his coat.
"Yeah."
"It just wrapped up."
I looked at him.
"Which client?"
Daniel set his keys down.
"Rachel, it's late."
"Can we do this tomorrow?"
"I saw you tonight."
He glanced at my phone.
"Who was the boy?"
Daniel said nothing.
I pushed my phone across the table.
Two names were written on the screen.
Victoria.
Noah.
"You followed me?"
"He called you Dad."
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, then sat across from me.
"Victoria and I used to be together."
"When we broke up, she didn't tell me she was pregnant."
"Noah is eight."
Eight.
The same number of years Daniel and I had been married.
My hands went cold.
"When did you find out?"
He hesitated.
"A year ago."
A year meant more than the evening I had just witnessed.
It included the appointments he had driven me to, the tests we had discussed, and the nights he had held me while I cried.
I tried to remember a conversation in which he might have come close to telling me, but none came to mind.
For a second, I thought I had heard him wrong.
Daniel explained that Victoria contacted him because Noah had started asking about his father and was having emotional problems.
A paternity test confirmed Noah was his son.
After that, Daniel started seeing him occasionally, then regularly.
He gave me the outline in the careful voice he used when an account had gone wrong at work.
Victoria had called, a test had been arranged, and visits had followed.
I tried to fit those events around our own calendar.
Had he read the results at home?
Had I been in the next room?
His coat was still over the back of the chair, one sleeve touching the floor.
He picked it up while I was trying to work out which month he meant.
And while that was happening, I had been going to fertility appointments, tracking dates, taking tests, and telling myself maybe next month would be different.
I remembered one appointment last winter.
The results had been bad.
I sat on the bathroom floor crying while Daniel held me.
He had whispered:
"We have time."
By then, he already knew he had a seven-year-old son.
I stared at him.
"So for the past year, I was the only one who thought we were still waiting for a child together?"
Daniel reached for me.
I stepped back.
"I didn't tell you because I knew how much you were already hurting."
"I was afraid you couldn't accept it."
"So you lied to me for a year?"
"I was trying to find the right time."
I pushed the cream envelope toward him.
"Open it."
Daniel broke the seal.
The moment he unfolded the report, he went completely still.
"Rachel..."
His eyes lifted to mine.
"You're pregnant?"
Something bright crossed his face.
He stood so quickly the chair scraped the floor.
I stepped back before he could touch me.
He stopped.
"How far along?"
"I found out today."
Daniel looked down at the report, his fingers trembling.
"I'm coming with you to the appointment tomorrow."
I took the envelope back.
"I don't know if I can trust you anymore."
He let me take the envelope.