Chapter 8: The Anniversary Party

I read the whole article sitting on Cliff's stool.

Cliff read it over my shoulder because I didn't tell him not to.

Blake was quoted throughout.

"Some days she doesn't get out of bed. I just try to keep things normal for our daughter."

"We're lucky. We have incredible help at home."

"I'd never say a bad word about my wife. She's sick. That's all."

There was a photo of him in the nursery, holding Rosie, by the window.

I recognized the onesie. It was the one Harper had packed.

"He's good," Cliff said. "I'll give him that. He was always good in a room."

"He's not in a room. He's on a screen."

"Same thing to most people."

I scrolled to the bottom.

The last line said Kestrel would celebrate one year as a public company on Thursday night with a party for employees, investors and press.

"Thursday," I said.

Cliff looked at me.

"No," he said. "Whatever that face is, no."

"I'm his wife. I'm on the list. I've been on the list every year."

"Margot."

"He told the whole country I can't get out of bed." I clipped Rosie back into the carrier. "I'd like to get out of bed."

Vivian called me before I reached the car.

"I read it," she said. "Don't respond online."

"I wasn't going to."

"Good."

"I was going to respond at the party."

She was quiet for two seconds.

Then I heard an almond crunch.

"What time," she said.

Blake had been sleeping in the guest house over the garage since court.

On Thursday afternoon I watched him leave from the kitchen window, in his good suit, with his hair still wet.

The twins' mom came over at five to watch Rosie.

She brought her own boys and a bag of frozen breast milk she called "the reserves."

"Go," she said, and took Rosie out of my arms. "If you're not back by ten, I'm keeping her. She's quieter than mine."

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