When did it start? How many times before pregnancy? Did you use our bedroom? Did anyone else know?
Did my money pay for the baby? Did Marcus sleep in the house? Did you ever plan to leave me? Did you love him?
Do you still? Why did you stay married to me? Why did you call the child Daddy? The last question he underlined twice.
At noon the next day, Nathan returned to the house in civilian clothes. The olive duffel still sat exactly where he left it near the door. Someone had moved his equipment case against the wall to make room. There were no toys visible in the living room now.
Emily had removed them, which Nathan disliked immediately. “Put them back,” he said before she could greet him. She looked confused. “What?”
“Noah's toys. Wherever they were. Put them back later.” Emily's expression tightened.
“Why?” “Because hiding evidence of his existence for my comfort is exactly how we got here.” She nodded slowly.
“Okay.” They sat at opposite ends of the dining table. Emily looked as if she had not slept. Her hair was tied back, makeup gone, face pale and swollen around the eyes.
Nathan felt nothing like satisfaction at seeing her suffer. He had loved this woman for nine years. Her pain still registered in him automatically, even when he knew he was not responsible for relieving it. He opened the notebook.
“I'm going to ask questions. If I think you're lying, I'm leaving.” Emily nodded. “When did it start?”
“October. Two years and four months ago.” “What happened?”
“Marcus came over after the water heater failed. He helped me clean up. We had wine after. We talked too long.