Chapter 12
"You know my life isn't like theirs."
"That's another thing we'll discuss through the attorneys."
His face closed.
"You want my daughter living without protection?"
"I want my daughter living without fear."
"I have never put you in danger."
"No. You just taught me to believe safety only existed where you controlled everything."
He looked at Lily.
I could see him fighting the argument he wanted to make.
Then he surprised me.
"You're right."
I stared at him.
Those words did not come naturally to Vincent.
He repeated them.
"I should have been there."
Something painful moved through me.
Too late.
Three words can be true and useless at the same time.
"You should have."
"I made the wrong decision."
"Yes."
"I thought you'd still be there when I came home."
That was perhaps the first completely honest thing he said.
I nodded slowly.
"I know."
His eyes met mine.
And in that moment, I think he finally understood the real betrayal.
Not Paris.
Not Sophia.
Not even missing Lily's birth.
He had assumed I would wait.
Because I always had.
He had mistaken my patience for permanence.
Vincent looked down at our daughter.
"I brought her something."
He handed me the blue bag.
Inside was the cashmere blanket.
Soft.
Beautiful.
Probably absurdly expensive.
I touched it once.
Then handed it back.
"Keep it here," he said.
"No."
His face changed.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want your gifts."
"It's for Lily."
"Then give it to her when she's old enough to know it's from you."
"Emily—"
"I don't want a blanket bought in Paris on the trip where you missed her birth becoming one of her first possessions."
He went completely still.
I had not meant the sentence to be cruel.
That was what made it worse.
It was simply true.
He placed the blanket back in the bag.
Lily stirred.
Her mouth opened in a tiny yawn.
Vincent smiled despite himself.
It transformed his face.
For one dangerous second, I saw the man I had once hoped he would become.
A husband who came home early.
A father who knew where the diapers were kept.
A man who chose us without needing to lose us first.
Then Lily began fussing.
I reached for her.
Vincent's arms tightened reflexively.
Not possessive.
Afraid.
"Can I stay a little longer?"
"No."
"Emily."
"You're not losing your daughter tonight."
I took Lily gently.