Chapter 11
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not involved in Rachel’s career.”
He looked toward Emma.
She focused on her coffee.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“She and I have been talking.”
There it was.
Not a confession.
A test.
He wanted me to pull the truth out of him.
Months earlier, I would have.
Talking how?
For how long?
Where?
What happened?
Are you sleeping with her?
Do you love her?
Do you love me?
That Sunday, I simply said, “I assumed.”
His face drained slightly.
“You assumed what?”
I looked directly at him.
“That you’re having an affair.”
Emma shut her eyes.
Daniel set his mug down too hard.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You can’t just say that in front of Emma.”
“She saw you.”
Silence.
Not figurative silence.
The kind that changes the temperature of a room.
Daniel looked at our daughter.
Emma looked back at him.
For the first time, I watched him realize his secrets had consequences beyond me.
“When?” he asked.
Emma’s voice was steady.
“Easton.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Emma, it wasn’t—”
“Don’t.”
It was the first time I had ever heard her speak to her father that way.
He stopped.
She continued.
“I don’t want details. I don’t want explanations. I don’t want you telling me I misunderstood what I saw.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You did it to Mom for months.”
He looked at me.
I said nothing.
Emma stood.
“I’m going inside.”
After she left, Daniel and I sat facing each other.
The street was quiet.
A dog barked somewhere behind the neighboring houses.
Daniel said, “I didn’t want her involved.”
“She became involved when she saw you.”
“I never meant for that to happen.”
I almost asked which part.
The affair?
The lies?
Our daughter seeing him?
Instead I waited.
Daniel looked exhausted.
Finally he said, “Rachel and I got close.”
I nodded.
“That’s not an explanation.”
“I’m not asking for one.”
He seemed almost angry.
“You don’t even want to hear what happened?”
“No.”
“How can you not want to know?”
That question fascinated me.
For nearly a year, Daniel had treated my desire to know as unreasonable.
Now my lack of curiosity offended him.
“Because whatever happened, you chose it,” I said. “Repeatedly.”
He looked away.
“It wasn’t planned.”
“Most damage isn’t.”
“I never stopped caring about you.”
I felt something then.
Not hope.