My husband was in Paris with the woman he had never stopped loving when I went into labor with our daughter.Chapter 1: PART 1: THE NIGHT HE WASN’T THERE

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Chapter 13

THEME:
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"You're losing access to me."

The distinction landed.

He stood there with empty arms.

"When can I see her again?"

"Frances will arrange something."

"I don't want supervised visitation like I'm a stranger."

"Then show me you're not one."

His face tightened.

"I am her father."

"Biologically, yes."

"Don't do that."

"Vincent, she is thirteen days old."

My voice stayed calm.

"You don't know what formula she takes. You don't know how often she wakes. You don't know which cry means she's hungry and which one means she's uncomfortable. You didn't even know her name until tonight."

He looked destroyed.

I didn't enjoy it.

That was another surprise.

I had imagined anger would feel powerful.

Mostly, it felt heavy.

"I can learn," he said.

"Then learn."

He stood on the porch a minute later.

Before I closed the door, he asked, "Is Sophia the reason?"

I almost couldn't believe him.

"The reason for what?"

"For this."

I looked at him through the narrow opening.

"No."

Confusion crossed his face.

"Vincent, Sophia isn't why I'm divorcing you."

"Then why?"

"Because when you left, I finally saw our marriage without you standing in the middle of it."

He said nothing.

"I realized I had spent years competing for things a wife shouldn't have to compete for."

"Emily—"

"Time. Attention. Honesty. Priority."

I adjusted Lily against my shoulder.

"Sophia didn't make vows to me."

He looked away.

"You did."

Then I closed the door.

For the next six weeks, Vincent did something I had never seen him do before.

He listened to instructions.

The first visitation took place at my house with a family specialist recommended by both attorneys.

Vincent arrived fifteen minutes early.

He wore a dark sweater instead of a suit.

No bodyguards came inside.

He learned how to hold Lily's bottle.

He learned how to burp her.

He changed his first diaper while I stood in the kitchen trying not to laugh when Lily peed on his shirt.

He didn't laugh.

Then he looked at me.

And suddenly we both did.

For one second, it felt normal.

That was the dangerous part.

Normality could make you forget history.

Afterward, he stayed by the doorway.

"Can I take you to dinner?"

"No."

"Just dinner."

"No."

"We don't have to talk about the divorce."

"Then what would we talk about?"

He hesitated.

Exactly.

I closed the door.

A week later, flowers arrived.

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