I Went to Buy a Crib and Found His Other FamilyChapter 2

Daniel orders shrimp.

He doesn't look at me when he does it.

I choose grilled chicken and tell the server about my allergy. She nods and goes to check with the kitchen.

Daniel is already looking at his phone.

"Work?" I ask.

He turns it facedown.

"Nothing important."

It vibrates against the table.

Then again.

He presses his palm over it.

"Ignore it. Tonight's about us."

"What happened to the confidential project?"

"Still tying up loose ends."

His phone starts ringing.

He looks at the screen.

The irritation leaves his face.

"I should probably take this."

"Of course."

He walks into the hallway outside the dining room.

Through the glass, I watch him turn away from me.

He speaks quickly.

Listens.

Runs a hand through his hair.

Three minutes later, he's back at the table, reaching for his jacket.

"There's a problem with the handover. They need me at the office."

"Now?"

"I'm sorry."

He bends to kiss my forehead.

"Eat. I'll come back if I can."

Our food arrives just as he leaves. I ask for a box and pay while the server packs my meal.

Through the window, I see Daniel waiting at the valet stand.

By the time I step outside, his car is waiting at the light.

A taxi pulls up to the curb.

I get in and point.

"I need to go where that black SUV is going."

The driver looks at me in the mirror.

"Everything okay?"

"No."

He doesn't ask anything else.

Daniel never goes near his office.

He turns toward the children's hospital.

Vanessa is waiting outside the emergency entrance with the baby in her arms.

He parks, gets out, and runs to her.

I lower the taxi window a few inches and take two pictures.

In the first, he's reaching for the child.

In the second, his arm is around Vanessa.

They go inside together.

I look down at the food container in my lap.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

I give him Rachel's office address.

She's waiting downstairs when I arrive.

"I stayed after my last appointment," she says. "Come up."

In her office, I show her the video from the parking lot.

Then the hospital pictures.

She watches without speaking.

When she hands back my phone, she asks, "Are you ready to leave, or do you need help figuring that out?"

"I'm ready."

"Okay."

That one word nearly makes me cry.

No questions about whether I misunderstood.

No reminder that five years is a long time.

She gets a notepad.

"Tell me about the money."

I do.

My salary goes into my checking account. Most months, I transfer a large part of it to the savings and investment accounts Daniel manages.

He earns more than I do. He likes spreadsheets. He used to send me updates.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking to see them.

There's also money I had before we married.

And the small condo I bought in my twenties, which I still own and rent out.

"Start with the records you can access," Rachel says. "Statements, transfers, anything he's sent you about investments. Save copies."

I nod.

"And Natalie? You don't have to confront him before you're ready."

I put my hand over my purse.

The ultrasound picture is inside.

"There's something else."

Rachel waits.

"I'm pregnant."

Her expression softens.

"How far along?"

"About nine weeks."

"Does he know?"

I shake my head.

"I was going to surprise him."

She reaches across the desk and takes my hand.

For the first time all day, I let myself cry.

Daniel gets home at eleven.

He carries a takeout container into the kitchen.

"Brought you dinner."

"I ate."

"You'll want this."

He opens the lid.

Noodles, clumped together.

Shrimp scattered over the top.

I stare at them.

"The team ordered food," he says. "I saved you some."

"So these are leftovers."

"I saved you a portion. What's the difference?"

He finds a fork and starts separating the noodles.

"Daniel. I'm allergic to shrimp."

He pauses.

Then he pulls one off the top.

"I forgot. You can eat around them."

"No."

"They weren't cooked together."

"You don't know that."

"I asked."

I look at him.

He looks back for a second, then drops his eyes to the container.

"Just try a little. I've had a long day, Nat."

He lifts the fork toward me.

I step back.

The movement is so quick that his hand stops in midair.

I take the container and tip it into the trash.

The fork hits the bottom with a clatter.

"What the hell?"

"I said no."

"I bring you food, and this is what I get?"

"You brought me something I can't eat."

"You could have said thank you."

I close the lid of the trash can.

He watches me wipe my hands.

"I don't know what's gotten into you."

Neither do I, completely.

But I know I'm done eating what's left after he's taken care of someone else.

Daniel shakes his head and goes upstairs.

I stay in the kitchen.

Then I rest a hand against my stomach.

He doesn't know about you yet.

I'm going to get us out before he has another chance to decide what we can live without.