Chapter 2 - THE CHILD HE DIDN'T WANT WITH MEI stood outside William's study until my knees began to shake.
Inside, neither man knew I was there.
William spoke first.
"Then why are you still married to her?"
Daniel took several seconds to answer.
"Because marriage isn't something you throw away every time you're unhappy."
Something almost broke inside me at that.
Not because he said he was unhappy.
Because he made staying sound noble.
As if remaining married to me while wishing I were someone else was a sacrifice he deserved credit for.
William's voice hardened.
"Does Emma know this?"
"No."
"Then she deserves to."
Daniel gave a tired sigh.
"I'm not discussing my marriage with her tonight."
"Apparently, you aren't discussing your marriage with your wife either."
I walked away before I could hear more.
I made it upstairs without anyone seeing me.
Then I locked the bathroom door and sat on the floor.
I didn't cry at first.
I stared at the tile between my feet and replayed those four words.
Not with Emma.
Not with Emma.
Not with Emma.
There had been a time when Daniel and I were good together.
I needed to believe that.
Otherwise, I would have had to admit I had built four years of marriage around something that had never really existed.
When we first met, Daniel had been attentive in the quiet ways that mattered.
He remembered how I took my coffee.
He sent a car when it rained because he knew I hated driving in storms.
He once left a board dinner halfway through because I had food poisoning and didn't want to be alone.
He wasn't romantic in the movie sense.
But I had never needed roses every Friday.
I needed to feel chosen.
For a while, I did.
Olivia had been part of his past before I met him.
Everyone knew about her.
The Hayes and Bennett families had moved in the same Manhattan circles for decades, and Daniel and Olivia had dated from college into their late twenties.
They had broken up because Olivia wanted to live in Europe and Daniel had just taken over a major division of Bennett Holdings.
At least that was the version I had been given.
When Daniel married me three years later, I thought the past was exactly that.
Past.
I hadn't understood that some relationships don't need to continue physically to remain alive inside a person.
For the next few weeks, I watched Daniel carefully.
Once you hear someone say they don't want children with you, ordinary moments become evidence.
The way he moved away when I touched him.
The way he answered emails during dinner.
The way he brightened when Olivia's name appeared in a conversation and seemed not to notice that he did.
The way our home had become a place where both of us slept but neither of us lived.
I stopped asking him what was wrong.
I stopped waiting for him to come home.
And slowly, almost invisibly, I began preparing myself for the possibility that my marriage had already ended.
Then I became pregnant.
I found out on a Tuesday morning.
I had been tired for days, but exhaustion had become so normal that I dismissed it.
Then the smell of Daniel's coffee made me run to the bathroom.
I bought three tests.
All three turned positive before I finished setting them on the counter.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at them.
Any other woman in my position might have felt joy first.
I felt terror.
Not because I didn't want the baby.
I did.
The realization came so quickly it frightened me.
I wanted that tiny, impossible life more than I knew how to explain.
But my husband's voice returned immediately.
Not with Emma.
I told Daniel that evening.
He had come home shortly after seven and was loosening his tie when I placed the test on his desk.
He stared at it.
Then at me.
"You're pregnant?"
"Yes."
He looked back down.
"Are you sure?"
I almost laughed.
"No, Daniel."
My voice shook.
"I thought I'd announce a hypothetical pregnancy for entertainment."
His jaw tightened.
"That's not what I meant."
"I took three tests."
"Have you seen a doctor?"
"Tomorrow."
He nodded once.
Then he sat down.
I watched his face.
There was shock.
Concern.
Calculation.
What I didn't see was happiness.
I folded my arms across my chest.
"Say something."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"Everything."
I hated how calm he sounded.
"Do you want this baby?"
Daniel looked at me.
The question sat between us.
I wondered whether he remembered telling William that he didn't.
Finally, he said, "This isn't how I expected things to happen."
"That wasn't my question."
"Emma."
"Do you want this baby?"
His gaze dropped.
"I don't know."
I had prepared myself for that answer.
It still hurt.
I nodded.
"Okay."
He looked up sharply.
"Okay?"
"At least you're telling me the truth."
I turned toward the door.
"Emma."
I stopped.
Daniel stood.
"I'm not saying I want you to—"
"Don't."
He went silent.
I faced him.
"I am keeping this baby."
"I wasn't suggesting otherwise."
"I'm telling you anyway."
His expression changed.
Maybe he heard something in my voice that hadn't been there before.
I continued.
"You can decide what kind of father you want to be."
I placed my hand over my still-flat stomach.
"But I'm not letting your uncertainty decide what kind of mother I'm going to be."
That was the first decision I made without considering what it might do to my marriage.
There would be many more.
Daniel didn't become cruel during my pregnancy.
Cruelty would almost have been easier.
He became responsible.
He paid attention to medical appointments.
He arranged transportation.
He had his assistant clear his calendar for important scans.
He made sure I had everything I needed.
But responsibility isn't the same thing as joy.
At our twelve-week ultrasound, the technician turned the screen toward us.
"There," she said.
A rapid little flicker appeared.
"That's the heartbeat."
I cried.
Daniel stared.
For a moment, I saw something move across his face.
Something softer.
Then it disappeared.
On the way home, he took a business call.
At twenty weeks, we learned we were having a girl.
I looked at the screen and whispered, "A daughter."
Daniel squeezed my hand.
It was the first spontaneous gesture of affection he had given me in months.
I held onto it longer than I should have.
Maybe that was my mistake.
Hope can survive on very little when you want it badly enough.
Then Olivia returned fully to our lives.
Her family's company was partnering with Bennett Holdings on a European hospitality project, which meant she and Daniel were suddenly in meetings together constantly.
Her name appeared on his schedule.
Her voice came through his phone.
She attended dinners I couldn't manage because pregnancy made me nauseated by evening.
Whenever I objected, Daniel looked exhausted.
"This is business."
"You always say that."
"Because it is."
"Was her birthday business?"
His face would close.
"We already discussed that."
"No."
I would look at him.
"You decided I wasn't allowed to discuss it anymore."
By my third trimester, my obstetrician became concerned about my blood pressure and cervical changes.
At thirty weeks, she told me bluntly that premature labor was a real possibility.
"Reduce stress."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I nodded.
Daniel attended that appointment.
He heard every word.
Three days later, he told me he was going to Europe.
I stared at him across our bedroom.
"For how long?"
"Ten days."
My hand went automatically to my stomach.
"Daniel, I'm thirty-one weeks pregnant."
"I know."
"The doctor just told us I could go into premature labor."
"I know."
"Then why are you going?"
"The Paris negotiations moved forward."
"Send someone else."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
He turned away to zip his suitcase.
My throat tightened.
"Is Olivia going?"
Daniel paused.
That told me the answer before he gave it.
"Yes."
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly even to me.
"Of course she is."
"Her family is half the transaction."
"Then let her family send someone else."
"Emma."
"Stay."
The word came out before pride could stop it.
Daniel looked at me.
For one second, I hated myself for asking.
Then Annie kicked hard enough for both of us to see the movement beneath my shirt.
I covered the spot with my hand.
"Please."
His face softened.
But not enough.
"I'll be reachable."
I stared at him.
"You said that on my birthday too."
His mouth tightened.
"This is different."
"No, Daniel."
May you like
I looked at the suitcase on our bed.
"It really isn't."
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