“You did this when you forged my name on a second mortgage.”
Daniel turned to me. “You did this here?”
“No,” I said. “You did this when you forged my name on a second mortgage and used the money to fund your Mediterranean vacation.”
Claire went completely still.
“What?”
I kept my eyes on Daniel.
“There was no company contest. There was debt. A lot of it.”
Claire looked at him like she had never seen him before.
“That’s not—”
I cut him off. “I found the loan documents. I found the notices from the bank. I found my forged signature.”
Claire looked at him like she had never seen him before.
“You told me you won that trip.”
Daniel tried a smile that collapsed halfway through. “I can explain.”
“Can you?” she asked.
He looked at me then, furious now that the performance had failed.
He reached for her arm.
She stepped away before he touched her.
“You have a wife, three newborns, foreclosure risk, and forged loan documents,” she said. “What exactly is the explanation supposed to sound like?”
He looked at me then, furious now that the performance had failed.
“You set me up.”
I adjusted the blanket over the nearest baby.
He opened the envelope with shaking hands and flipped through the pages with a panicked urgency.
“No,” I said. “I let the truth meet you where you landed.”
He opened the envelope with shaking hands and flipped through the pages with a panicked urgency.
“Helen, listen to me—”
“I listened to you for months,” I said. “I listened when you said you needed a break. I listened when you said we’d talk later. I listened when you acted like abandoning me was temporary and not a choice.”
Claire was already backing away.
Then she turned and walked out of the terminal without looking back.
“Don’t call me,” she told him.
Then she turned and walked out of the terminal without looking back.
Daniel watched her go for one stunned second before turning back to me.
“This isn’t over.”
He had told me I always figured things out.
For once, he was right.
Three sleeping girls. Three pink hats. Three faces he had chosen not to know.
“It is for me.”
He looked at the stroller then. Really looked.
Three sleeping girls. Three pink hats. Three faces he had chosen not to know.
For a split second, something real crossed his face. It was too late for it to matter.
I picked up the Welcome Home, Daddy sign, folded it once down the middle, and tucked it into the bottom basket of the stroller.
Then I put both hands on the handlebar.
I walked past him before he could finish.
“You should read every page before you call anyone,” I said. “Especially the parts about the forged signature.”
