Chapter 5 - The Messages
Emma read the messages upstairs above the bookstore.
Once.
Then twice.
Then a third time.
The pain was different from seeing Nathan dance with Olivia.
The dance had been public.
These words were private.
That made them more intimate.
Emma reached one message dated the night of their seventh anniversary.
Long day. Can’t do dinner.
That was what Nathan had texted Emma.
Three minutes later, he had texted Olivia.
I’ll be at the Mercer bar around nine if you’re still awake.
Emma remembered that night.
She had eaten alone.
She had blown out two candles herself because the restaurant refused to cancel the dessert reservation.
Nathan came home after midnight.
He had kissed her forehead.
He smelled like whiskey and expensive hotel soap.
Emma had asked whether the meeting went well.
Nathan said it had.
She closed her eyes.
Her phone rang.
Nathan.
She almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Emma said, “Our anniversary.”
Nathan’s breath caught.
“I know.”
“You told me you were in meetings.”
“Yes.”
“You met her for drinks.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
Silence.
Emma’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Nathan.”
“I don’t know.”
The honesty hurt more than denial.
Emma stared at the rain outside.
“You don’t know?”
“At the time, I never let myself ask that question.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yes.”
She heard him breathing.
Then he said, “I kept everything inside categories that protected me.”
Emma said nothing.
“Dinner was work because we discussed work.”
“A drink was work because we were traveling.”
“Texts were work because she worked for me.”
“A dance was work because cameras were there.”
His voice cracked.
“I built definitions that allowed me to do whatever I wanted without calling myself unfaithful.”
Emma wiped her cheek.
“And I paid for those definitions.”
“Yes.”
She expected him to say he loved her.
He did not.
She was grateful.
Love had become too easy a word between them.
“What happens now?”
Nathan paused.
“The board is investigating the leak.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“I’m not asking you to decide anything.”
Emma looked at the messages again.
“You finally told me something that could make me hate you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you ever trust me again, I don’t want it to be based on an edited version of who I was.”
Emma covered her eyes.
For eight years, she had begged Nathan to tell her the truth before she had to drag it out of him.
Now he had handed her the truth knowing it might destroy his last chance.
That did not erase what he had done.
But it mattered.
“Goodnight, Nathan.”
“Goodnight, Emma.”
She almost ended the call.
Then she remembered tomorrow.
“My appointment is at ten.”
Nathan went silent.
“Do you still want me there?”
“If you can come without turning it into a promise about us.”
“I can.”
“Then come.”
After ending the call, Emma rested both hands over her stomach.
The baby moved.
Emma whispered into the quiet apartment.
May you like
“Your father finally learned how to tell the truth when it costs him something.”
She did not yet know whether that would be enough.
