Chapter 1 - The Call That Never Ended
I pressed the phone closer to my ear and heard a woman laugh.
Then Liam said, "Of course I hate her."
My hand froze around Hailey's bottle.
The call timer was still moving.
That changed everything.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was hearing.
Not because Liam's words were unclear.
They were perfectly clear.
That was the problem.
I stood beside the kitchen counter with our newborn daughter tucked against my chest, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt. A bottle warmer hummed beside me. Somewhere in the living room, the little white-noise machine Liam had insisted we buy made its soft rushing sound.
Everything around me looked exactly as it had five minutes earlier.
But my marriage didn't.
"She's driving me insane," Liam said through the phone.
His voice sounded different when he didn't know I was listening.
Relaxed.
Amused.
Cruel.
"Sending me pictures of the baby, asking when I'm coming home. I just want her to leave me alone."
The woman said something too quietly for me to understand.
Then Liam laughed.
I knew that laugh.
It was the laugh he used to give me.
Two years earlier, when we'd gotten married, I had believed I would hear it for the rest of my life.
Hailey shifted against me.
I looked down.
Her eyes were half closed. She was searching for the bottle with her mouth, completely unaware that her father was speaking about us as though we were inconveniences he couldn't wait to escape.
Then Liam said the words that divided my life into before and after.
"Of course I hate her. I barely touch her anymore. Just wait. I'll divorce her, and then I'll marry you."
My fingers went numb.
A soft sound came through the speaker.
A kiss.
I stopped breathing.
For one terrible second, I wanted to scream his name.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
I wanted to tell the woman that Liam had kissed me on the forehead that morning before leaving for work.
Instead, I looked at my daughter.
Hailey blinked up at me.
And something inside me became very still.
I ended the call.
No accusation.
No screaming.
No warning.
I simply pressed the red button.
Then I put the phone facedown.
Hailey started fussing.
"Okay, sweetheart," I whispered.
My voice sounded surprisingly normal.
"Mommy's here."
I finished warming her bottle and sat in the rocking chair beside the window.
As Hailey drank, I stared at the wedding photograph hanging across the room.
Liam and I were smiling beneath strings of white lights.
His arm was around my waist.
I remembered exactly what he'd whispered after the photographer took that picture.
Best decision I ever made.
I almost laughed.
Instead, tears filled my eyes.
I refused to let them fall onto my daughter.
"Not on you," I whispered.
Hailey's little hand closed around my finger.
That broke me.
I cried silently.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just tears sliding down my cheeks while my daughter drank her milk.
By five o'clock, I had washed my face.
By six, I had changed Hailey.
By seven, I had made dinner even though Liam had already told me he probably wouldn't be home.
At 8:17, I heard his key.
The front door opened.
"Hey, Em."
I turned.
Liam walked into the kitchen carrying grocery-store flowers.
Yellow roses.
My favorite flowers were peonies.
He used to know that.
"These are for you."
He kissed my forehead.
The same mouth I had heard kissing another woman hours earlier touched my skin.
Every muscle in my body wanted to pull away.
I didn't.
"Thank you."
"Missed my girls."
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
His dark hair was neatly styled. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He smelled faintly of cologne.
The scent wasn't unusual.
The amount was.
I wondered how many clues I'd ignored because trusting my husband had seemed more reasonable than investigating him.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Just tired."
"Baby keeping you up?"
"Our baby has a name."
His smile faltered.
"Obviously."
"Hailey."
"I know her name, Emily."
He opened the refrigerator.
That tiny flash of irritation would once have made me apologize.
This time, I watched.
"There's dinner," I said.
"I ate at work."
Of course he had.
He took out a bottle of water.
His phone buzzed.
Liam looked at the screen and immediately turned it facedown.
There it was.
A movement so small I might have ignored it yesterday.
Tonight it screamed.
"Who is it?" I asked.
His eyes flicked toward me.
"Work."
I smiled.
"Okay."
Something about my answer seemed to bother him.
Maybe he expected suspicion.
Maybe guilt had made him sensitive.
Or maybe men like Liam became comfortable only when they controlled what their wives knew.
He walked toward the hallway.
"I'm showering."
His phone went with him.
I stared after him.
Then I looked at the flowers.
Yellow roses.
I picked them up and carried them to the kitchen.
For one angry second, I considered throwing them into the trash.
Instead, I found a vase.
That surprised even me.
But I was beginning to understand something.
Anger could wait.
Information mattered more.
The following morning, Liam left early.
I didn't search his things.
I didn't follow him.
I didn't attempt to break into his phone.
I did something far simpler.
I opened our household records.
Marriage teaches you where the paperwork lives.
Mortgage statements.
Insurance.
Tax returns.
Joint expenses.
Emergency contacts.
I wasn't looking for revenge.
I needed to know where Hailey and I stood.
By noon, I had created a folder.
By afternoon, I had made an appointment with a family-law attorney.
I told no one.
That night Liam came home at 10:43.
The following night, 11:18.
Wednesday, he claimed he had a client dinner.
Thursday, a quarterly planning session.
Friday, "something exploded at work."
He used almost the same phrase each time.
"Don't wait up."
I didn't.
Instead, I watched.
He changed his passcode.
He carried his phone into the shower.
He bought a new shirt.
He sprayed cologne before leaving for a Saturday "emergency meeting."
And every time he lied, I became calmer.
Not because it hurt less.
Because I was beginning to understand that the man I loved and the man standing in front of me were not the same person.
On Saturday afternoon, while Hailey slept, I opened the calendar on the refrigerator.
Sunday was circled in pink.
OUR ANNIVERSARY.
I'd circled it weeks earlier.
Originally, I had planned dinner for three.
Roast chicken.
Mashed potatoes.
Green beans.
Pumpkin pie because Liam loved it even when it wasn't Thanksgiving.
A bottle of wine for him.
Sparkling water for me.
A little anniversary card with Hailey's footprint inside.
I stared at that circle.
Then I picked up my phone.
I called my mother first.
"Mom?"
"Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine."
The lie came easily now.
"I changed the anniversary plans. Can you and Dad come tomorrow?"
"Of course."
"Actually, I'd like everyone there."
"Everyone?"
"Both families."
There was a pause.
"Emily, that's a lot of people on short notice."
"I know."
"Is something happening?"
I looked toward Hailey's bassinet.
"Yes."
"What?"
I smiled without meaning to.
"Dinner."
After hanging up, I called Liam's mother.
Then his sister.
Then my brother.
By sunset, twelve people were coming.
At 7:06 that evening, Liam texted.
Running late again. Don't be mad.
I stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
Love you.
For the first time all week, I laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
But it wasn't broken either.
I typed:
Love you too. Don't forget tomorrow.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Our anniversary? Obviously I remember.
I put the phone down.
Hailey made a sleepy sound.
I lifted her from the bassinet and held her against my chest.
"You and me," I whispered.
She yawned.
I kissed her forehead.
Then my phone vibrated again.
I expected Liam.
It wasn't him.
An unknown number had sent me a photograph.
Liam was sitting in a restaurant booth.
Across from him sat a woman.
His hand was resting over hers.
May you like
Under the photograph were five words:
You don't know the worst part.
