That wasn’t a trick I had played on Daniel. It was the life I lived when he wasn’t looking.
At breakfast, he arrived without Vanessa.
He looked tired.
“Mind if I sit?”
I pushed out the chair across from me.
“Where is she?”
“At the pool. She’s still upset.”
“And you?”
He stirred his coffee.
“I talked to Natalie. She said Vanessa told them you’d approved the switch.”
“She hadn’t asked me.”
“I know that now.”
He hesitated.
“I called the front desk yesterday morning. Vanessa told me she’d checked with you. I didn’t hear the actual conversation, but I was there when they made the change. I should have asked whether you were okay with it.”
That was the first time he’d described his own part in what happened without using Vanessa as cover.
“Yes,” I said. “You should have.”
“I think I’ve gotten used to letting her handle things because it’s easier than disagreeing.”
I didn’t interrupt.
“Sometimes I know she’s being rude,” he continued. “I tell myself she’ll calm down later, or that you won’t mind. I didn’t realize how often I was putting you in that position.”
“You’re not responsible for everything your wife says,” I told him. “You are responsible for what you say—and for what you decide not to say.”
He nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
I wanted to reach across the table and tell him everything was fine. Mothers can spend decades training themselves to relieve their children’s discomfort before anyone asks.
But discomfort was doing useful work for once.
“I want to spend time with you,” I said. “That’s why I planned this trip. I don’t want every visit to become a negotiation about what I’m willing to give up.”
“I don’t want that either.”
“Then when I tell you something matters to me, believe me.”
He looked at my face for a long moment.
“I will try.”
It was a modest answer. I trusted it more than a grand promise.
