Chapter 7 - DENVERI did not call Liam immediately.
That surprised Nora.
It surprised me too.
A year earlier, I would have needed an answer before I could breathe.
Now I handed her phone back.
“Did Liam see this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
I looked at her.
“Before our date?”
She nodded.
Something inside me tightened.
“And he didn’t tell me.”
“I think he was going to.”
“That sentence has caused enough damage in my life.”
“I know.”
I walked into the kitchen.
Nora followed.
“Do you know what Denver means?”
“No.”
“Has Liam ever mentioned it?”
“He traveled there for work a few years ago.”
“How many?”
“Maybe three? Four?”
Before Hailey.
Before the affair with Megan.
I opened the refrigerator.
Closed it again.
I wasn’t hungry.
I simply needed something to do with my hands.
“Who sent the email?”
“Anonymous address.”
“To whom?”
“His boss. HR. Two directors. Liam. A few other people.”
“And you?”
“He forwarded it to me after your date.”
I turned.
“After?”
“Yes.”
“So he came home and told you.”
“Basically.”
“But not me.”
Nora hesitated.
“He said he didn’t want to destroy your first good night in a year over something he claims isn’t true.”
Claims.
The word mattered.
“What exactly does he say isn’t true?”
“That there was another affair.”
“Was there something in Denver?”
Nora looked uncomfortable.
“I think you need to ask him.”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Apparently that’s the theme of my marriage.”
I picked up my phone.
Then stopped.
My thumb hovered over Liam’s name.
I remembered something my therapist had told me months earlier.
Urgency is not always the same as importance.
I put the phone down.
Nora watched me.
“You’re not calling him?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That answer made both of us smile slightly.
“I’m tired,” I said. “Hailey will wake up at six. Whatever happened in Denver already happened. I don’t become safer by destroying myself tonight.”
Nora stared at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You’re different.”
I felt strangely irritated.
“I had to become different.”
“I know.”
Her voice softened.
“I wish you hadn’t had to.”
That disarmed me.
I looked away.
“Nora, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“But if there’s something you know about your brother—”
“I don’t.”
“Anything.”
“I swear.”
I studied her face.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
After she left, I went upstairs.
I expected not to sleep.
Instead, exhaustion won.
Hailey woke at five forty-eight.
Life continued.
Milk.
Diaper.
Banana smashed into the tray of her high chair.
A furious argument because I would not allow her to eat a crayon.
By seven thirty, I almost resented Denver for believing it deserved to interrupt any of this.
Liam arrived at eight.
He was supposed to take Hailey to the park.
He walked inside.
One look at my face and he knew.
“Nora told you.”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“I asked her not to.”
“That’s your problem with this situation?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Hailey reached for him.
“Daddy.”
His face softened automatically.
“Hey, bug.”
He lifted her.
I watched him kiss her hair.
Then I said, “Take her to my mother’s.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Mom said she’d watch her this morning.”
“You called her?”
“At six thirty.”
His expression tightened.
“You planned this.”
“I prepared for a conversation.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Twenty-five minutes later, he returned alone.
I had made coffee.
Neither of us drank it.
“Tell me about Denver.”
He sat across from me.
“There was no affair.”
“What was there?”
“A woman named Rebecca.”
I waited.
“She worked for a client.”
“Were you attracted to her?”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
That helped.
It also hurt.
“What happened?”
“We flirted.”
My stomach turned.
“How much?”
“Enough that I knew it was wrong.”
“Define enough.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“We had drinks with a group after meetings. We texted for a few weeks afterward.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Touch her?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her you wanted to?”
He looked down.
That was my answer.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“Try.”
He swallowed.
“I said something about wishing we’d met before I was married.”
I leaned back.
The room became painfully quiet.
“When was this?”
“About eight months before you got pregnant.”
I stared at him.
“So before Megan, there was already someone else.”
“No.”
My eyes sharpened.
He corrected himself immediately.
“There was already a boundary I crossed.”
“Thank you.”
He looked miserable.
“Why wasn’t Rebecca in the six pages?”
“Because you asked about Megan.”
I stared at him.
His face changed.
He heard it too.
The old logic.
Technically true.
Morally useless.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
I stood.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You told me if I found out you deliberately left something important out—”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You knew exactly what I was asking for.”
“Yes.”
“Anything I might discover later.”
“I know.”
“And you decided Rebecca didn’t count?”
“I told myself she didn’t.”
“Because you didn’t sleep with her?”
“Yes.”
I walked away from the table.
My hands were shaking.
Not like before.
This wasn’t shock.
It was rage.
A cleaner emotion.
“You let me spend a year believing Megan was the first time you crossed that line.”
“I know.”
“You let me go to counseling.”
“I know.”
“You sat there while we talked about why you escaped after Hailey was born.”
“I know.”
“But this happened before Hailey.”
“Yes.”
That word broke something.
Not my heart.
That had already broken once.
This was different.
It was the architecture of the story.
For a year, Liam and I had built an explanation.
New baby.
Fear.
Insecurity.
Exhaustion.
Cowardice.
None of those excused what he did.
But they created context.
Now I discovered that the first crack existed before any of them.
“Why?”
He looked at me helplessly.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice rose.
For the first time in nearly a year, I shouted at him.
Liam flinched.
I didn’t care.
“You don’t get to sit there and calmly acknowledge everything after I drag it out of you.”
“You’re right.”
“Stop!”
He closed his mouth.
I pressed both hands against the counter.
I was breathing too fast.
Liam stayed seated.
Good.
If he had approached me, I might have told him to leave.
Maybe I was going to anyway.
Finally he spoke.
“I liked being wanted.”
I turned.
He stared at the floor.
“I think that’s the simplest answer.”
I said nothing.
“When Rebecca flirted with me, I liked it. I liked feeling like someone looked at me and saw possibilities instead of responsibilities.”
I laughed bitterly.
“We didn’t even have a child.”
“No.”
“So what responsibility was crushing you then?”
“Marriage.”
The word landed between us.
He looked ashamed.
“Not you. Marriage. Being somebody’s husband. Having a mortgage. Thinking every decision I made had consequences for another person.”
I stared at him.
“You wanted to be single.”
“Sometimes.”
“Then why didn’t you leave?”
“Because I loved you.”
“That didn’t stop you from wanting Rebecca.”
“No.”
“And later Megan.”
“No.”
I crossed my arms.
“So what exactly has changed?”
He finally looked at me.
“I stopped believing love was supposed to remove temptation.”
That was not the answer I expected.
He continued.
“I used to think if I noticed another woman, something must be wrong at home. If someone made me feel exciting or admired, I treated that feeling like information.”
I said nothing.
“It wasn’t information. It was just a feeling. I made choices after it.”
I hated that the answer sounded thoughtful.
I wanted something easier to reject.
“Why hide Rebecca?”
“Because I was afraid it would change your understanding of Megan.”
“It does.”
“I know.”
I glared at him.
He stopped himself.
“Sorry.”
“Does Megan know about Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“Nora knew I had gotten too friendly with someone on a trip. She didn’t know the details.”
That explained her face.
“You said she knew nothing.”
“She doesn’t know what I just told you.”
I shook my head.
“Do you understand how exhausting this is?”
“Yes.”
I waited.
He caught himself again.
“I understand why it would be.”
“Every time I begin believing I know the shape of what happened, another door opens.”
“I have nothing else.”
My laugh was immediate.
“You said that before.”
His face collapsed slightly.
“I know.”
This time I let him say it.
Because he did know.
And because knowing no longer fixed anything.
I walked to the table.
“Leave.”
His eyes closed.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to see you except for Hailey’s schedule until counseling.”
“Okay.”
“And our second date is canceled.”
His throat moved.
“Okay.”
I hated the pain on his face.
I hated that I still cared.
He stood.
At the doorway, he stopped.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“Not because of the email.”
“Yes.”
“A year ago.”
“Yes.”
He opened the door.
Then I asked, “Who sent it?”
He turned.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe Rebecca did?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca died two years ago.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Car accident.”
Cold moved through me.
“Then who knows?”
“That’s what HR is trying to figure out.”
He left.
I stood alone.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Not Liam.
An email.
No sender name I recognized.
No subject.
One attachment.
A screenshot.
I opened it.
It was an old text conversation.
Liam’s name appeared at the top.
The date was from the Denver trip.
Rebecca:
If circumstances were different?
Liam:
I’d be at your hotel door already.
My heart dropped.
Then I saw the next message.
Rebecca:
You said your wife doesn’t understand you.
Liam:
She doesn’t know half of who I am.
May you like
Below the screenshot was a single sentence from whoever had sent it.
Neither do you.
