“Where’s Maya?”
“Asleep.”
“I want to see her.”
“Of course.”
That mattered.
Whatever happened between us, I was not going to weaponize our daughter.
Julian went into the nursery.
I stood in the doorway.
He looked down at Maya.
His face broke.
“She looks like you.”
I said nothing.
He touched one tiny hand.
Then whispered:
“I love her.”
“I know.”
He looked back at me.
“I love you too.”
That was harder.
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“You don’t get to tell me what I feel.”
“You told Melanie you hated me.”
“I was venting.”
“You leased an apartment with her.”
“I was confused.”
“You spent joint money.”
“I’ll replace it.”
“You planned to leave me before Maya was born.”
He looked down.
“Julian.”
I waited.
Finally:
“Yes.”
There it was.
Truth.
Ugly.
Late.
But truth.
PART 7
I asked him one question.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
He sat in the nursery chair.
“Because Maya was coming.”
“That’s not love.”
“I know.”
“Did you stay for her?”
“Partly.”
“And partly?”
He rubbed his face.
“Image.”
I stared.
He continued.
“My company was preparing for a major promotion review.”
“Your boss is obsessed with family stability.”
I remembered.
Julian’s company had a conservative executive culture.
Married men with babies photographed well at corporate functions.
I laughed quietly.
“So I was useful.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“It wasn’t only that.”
“But it was part of it.”
“Yes.”
Another truth.
I hated how much easier they became once one finally arrived.
PART 8
Rebecca filed the divorce petition that week.
No theatrical courthouse scene.
No instant victory.
Paperwork.
Financial disclosures.
Schedules.
Temporary arrangements.
Julian moved into the apartment he had rented with Melanie.
For exactly eleven days.
Then Melanie threw him out.
I learned that from Diane.
I did not ask.
She volunteered.
Apparently Melanie had believed Julian would arrive as a wealthy newly single executive.
Instead, he arrived with lawyers, family anger, frozen discretionary accounts, and an infant daughter he wanted to see regularly.
Reality was less romantic than the affair.
I felt no satisfaction.
Maybe a little.
I am human.
PART 9
