The husband looked at her.
“Answer.”
“I don’t know.”
The partner looked hurt.
The husband almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“You told him you were leaving me.”
The partner looked at the wife.
She stared at the floor.
The husband turned toward him.
“She told you that?”
The partner nodded.
“She said after the holidays.”
The husband’s heart stopped.
The holidays were six weeks away.
So there had been a plan.
He looked at his wife.
“You were going to leave?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know.”
“You gave him a date.”
“I was panicking.”
“About what?”
“He wanted an answer.”
The husband laughed.
“Interesting.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“You could give him answers.”
She stared.
“But when I ask where you were, you’re confused.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Still not fair.”
The partner stepped forward.
“This is on me too.”
The husband looked at him.
“No.”
The partner stopped.
“This is not a group apology.”
The husband pointed toward the door.
“You will get your turn.”
The partner looked down.
The husband turned back to his wife.
“Were you going to take our daughter?”
Her face changed instantly.
“What?”
“If you left.”
“I would never take her from you.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She looked terrified now.
“I don’t know.”
His voice dropped.
“You discussed it?”
She said nothing.
That was the answer.
The husband felt the room shift beneath him.
“You discussed my daughter with him?”
The partner stepped forward.
“Nothing was decided.”
The husband turned so fast both of them froze.
“You discussed my child?”
The partner’s face drained.
“We talked about what would happen if she left.”
The husband stared.
“What would happen if she left me.”
“Yes.”
“And you two imagined where my daughter would live.”
Silence.
The husband laughed softly.
It was the most frightening sound either had heard from him.
He looked toward the ceiling.
His daughter was directly above them.
Sleeping in a room he had painted himself before she was born.
His partner had helped.
He remembered them laughing while assembling the crib.
The husband turned back.
“You helped build her nursery.”
The partner’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“You held the ladder.”
“I know.”
“And seven years later, you were discussing whether she would live with you.”
The partner looked broken.
The husband felt nothing for him.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
“Get out.”
The partner nodded.
“I understand.”
“No.”
The husband walked toward the door.
“I don’t think you do.”
The partner stopped.
“Tomorrow morning, do not come to the office.”
The man looked up.
“Listen—”
“No.”
“Business is separate.”
The husband stared.
“You slept with my wife.”
The partner swallowed.
“Our company—”
“Is built on trust.”
The husband opened the door.
“You no longer have mine.”
The partner looked toward the wife.
The husband noticed.
“Stop looking at her.”
The partner looked down.
“You will hear from our attorneys.”
“Okay.”