Chapter 6: When He Finally Came Home
Daniel came to the house three days later.
He texted first.
*"Can we talk?
I'll come by at seven."*
I replied: *"Fine."*
I didn't tell him about Patricia.
I didn't tell him about the bank statements, the property record, or the apartment.
I didn't tell him I had stood in his bedroom and seen the photograph on the nightstand with his watch in the frame.
I put Lily at Carol's for the night.
I made coffee.
I sat at the kitchen table and waited.
He walked in at seven-oh-four.
He looked the same.
He was wearing the jacket I had bought him two Christmases ago.
He set his keys on the counter — his keys, not the spare — and sat down across from me like we were about to discuss a household budget.
"I know this is a shock," he said.
"Is it?"
He paused.
"I should have told you directly.
I know that.
I handled it badly."
"You used Lily."
"I thought it would soften it.
She was so excited to help.
I didn't think—"
"You used our eleven-year-old daughter to hand me a key to an apartment you bought with our savings without telling me.
You let her bake a cake.
You let her think she was doing something kind."
He looked at the table.
"I know."
"How long, Daniel?"
"How long what?"
"How long have you been planning this?"
He shifted in his chair.
"A while.
Things haven't been good between us for a long time.
You know that."
"How long have you been seeing her?"
The shift again.
Smaller this time.
"I don't know what you—"
"The photograph on the nightstand.
Your watch.
Her face." I kept my voice level.
"How long?"
He was quiet for four full seconds.
"Two years," he said.
Two years.
Lily had been nine.
I had been making dinners and helping with homework and driving to school and folding his laundry and believing that we were simply going through a rough patch, the kind that long marriages have, the kind you work through.
"Does she know about Lily?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Does Lily know about her?"
"No.
Of course not."
"Of course not," I repeated.
"But Lily knows about the divorce.
Lily baked the cake.
Lily handed me the key.
Lily asked me if those were happy tears." I looked at him.
"You involved our daughter in everything except the part that would have made her understand why."
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"I'm sorry.
I know it was wrong."
"I spoke to an attorney," I said.
His hands came down.
"I've seen the filing," I said.
"I've seen the asset disclosure.
I've seen the income figure you listed." I paused.
"I've also seen twenty-four months of bank statements."
He was very still.
"Patricia is filing a motion for full financial disclosure next week," I said.
"Employment records, external accounts, the company registered on Mercer Street.
All of it."
"You went to the apartment."
"I used the key you gave me."
He stood up.
The chair scraped back.
"That's not — I was trying to be fair to you.
That apartment was supposed to be—"
"Bought with money you moved out of our joint account over eighteen months.
I know." I stood up too.
"Sit down, Daniel."
He didn't sit.
But he stopped moving.
"Here is what's going to happen," I said.
"You are going to instruct your attorney to cooperate fully with the financial disclosure.
You are going to stop communicating with me through Diane.
And you are not going to involve Lily in any part of this process again.
Not one word, not one errand, not one surprise.
Do you understand me?"
He looked at me for a long moment.
"You've changed," he said.
"I found a key in a cake," I said.
"I had to."
He picked up his keys from the counter.
Walked to the door.
Stopped with his hand on the frame.
"My attorney will be in touch," he said.
"So will mine," I said.
The door closed.
I stood in the kitchen for a moment.
Then I picked up my phone and called Patricia.
She answered on the second ring.
"He came," I said.
"He confirmed two years.
He knows I've seen the accounts and the property record.
He's going to fight it."
"Good," Patricia said.
"That means he's worried.
Worried people make mistakes."
May you like
"What do we do now?"
"Now," she said, "we find the rest of the money."
