“Daniel told me you’d never forgive us.”
The sentence took a moment to register.
“How long?” I asked.
She looked away.
“Claire—”
“How long were you involved with him while he was married to me?”
Her eyes filled.
“Before he moved out.”
“How long before?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly.”
That told me enough for the moment.
I remembered Daniel becoming secretive, taking calls outside, telling me I was too suspicious. I remembered Vanessa comforting me after he left, calling him unreliable and insisting I deserved better.
Maybe some of her comfort had been real. That possibility did not excuse the betrayal. It made it harder to understand.
“Don’t contact Lily,” I said, “unless I tell you we’re ready.”
Vanessa looked toward the reception room.
“Graham won’t speak to me.”
“Then give him time.”
She reached for my arm. I stepped away.
“I love you, Claire.”
I looked at the woman who had laughed at my daughter’s clothes three hours earlier.
“Love doesn’t give you the right to make someone else smaller so you can feel safe.”
I turned and walked out.
The cab ride to our hotel was quiet.
Lily fell asleep against my shoulder, her yellow cardigan bunched beneath her cheek. I watched the harbor lights pass and tried not to imagine every conversation between Vanessa and Daniel that I hadn’t been allowed to hear.
I failed.
In the hotel room, I changed into pajamas, helped Lily brush her teeth, and put her to bed. She asked whether I wished she hadn’t brought the video.
“I wish the adults had behaved better,” I said. “That’s different.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Even a little?”
