Chapter 8: The Morning He Came to the Door
I slept in the hotel room with all three babies arranged around me on the king bed, pillows wedged on every side.
I woke twice in the night — once for Noah, once for Clara — and lay in the dark between feedings listening to the hum of the air conditioning and thinking about forged signatures.
At seven in the morning, someone knocked on my door.
I knew before I opened it.
Eric was standing in the hallway in yesterday's clothes.
He hadn't slept either.
His eyes were red at the edges and his jaw was set in the way it got when he was preparing to be reasonable.
"Can I come in?"
"No," I said.
"The babies are sleeping."
He lowered his voice.
"Diane.
We need to talk properly.
Not through texts."
"Talk, then."
He glanced down the hallway.
"Out here?"
"Yes."
He exhaled.
Looked at the floor.
Then up at me.
"I know how this looks," he said.
"Tell me how it looks."
"Like I made some bad decisions.
Like I should have been honest with you about the job situation.
I know that.
I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for months."
"And Lauren?"
His jaw tightened.
"Lauren was a mistake.
It was nothing serious.
She—"
"He showed her a forged separation agreement with my signature on it," I said.
"That's not a mistake.
That's a plan."
The word *forged* landed.
I watched it hit him.
His eyes went very still.
"I don't know what she told you—"
"I have a photo of the document, Eric.
I've already sent it to a lawyer."
A long silence.
In the room behind me, Clara made a small sound and went quiet again.
"You've spoken to a lawyer," he said.
"I have."
"Already."
"Yes."
He put one hand on the doorframe.
Not aggressive — more like he needed something solid.
"Diane.
Think about what you're doing.
We have three children.
A divorce is going to—"
"I haven't said anything about divorce.
I've said I spoke to a lawyer about a forged document.
Those are different things."
He looked at me.
The reasonable expression had developed a crack in it.
"What do you want?" he said.
"Right now?
I want you to go back to the resort.
I want you to stay there today.
And I want you to understand that the travel card will not be unfrozen."
"I have expenses—"
"Use your own account."
Another silence.
Longer.
"I can't," he said.
"I know," I said.
He looked at me then — really looked at me — and I think that was the moment he understood that I wasn't guessing anymore.
That I knew about the job.
That I knew how long it had been.
That the ground he'd been standing on had been mine all along, and I had simply stopped holding it up.
"Eric," I said.
"I'm going to close this door now.
My lawyer will be in touch."
"Diane—"
"Go back to the resort."
I closed the door.
I stood with my back against it for a moment.
My hands were steady.
May you like
I noticed that with some surprise.
Then Noah woke up and started to cry, and I crossed the room and picked him up, and the morning moved forward the way mornings do.
