"I am," I said.
"I need you to call David Holt for me.
Right now."
A pause.
"Your divorce attorney?"
"Tell him I need an emergency appointment tomorrow morning.
Tell him I have video evidence and I need to know exactly what to do with it before I speak to Daniel again."
Another pause, longer this time.
"Rachel.
What happened?"
"I'll explain everything later." I watched Daniel below.
He was still holding the phone.
Lauren was talking at him fast, her hand on his arm.
"Just call David.
Please."
"I'm calling him right now," Carol said.
"Are you okay?"
I thought about that for a moment.
"I will be," I said.
I ended the call.
Daniel looked up one more time.
His face had moved past shock now.
Something harder had settled in.
He said something to Lauren, something short and sharp, and she nodded once.
Then he walked toward the escalator.
He was coming up.
---
I moved to the far end of the balcony and sat down at an empty gate seating area.
My carry-on was beside me.
My boarding pass was in my bag.
My flight to visit my college roommate in Seattle — the trip I had planned entirely on my own, the one Daniel had said was a great idea, the one he had encouraged with just a little too much enthusiasm — was boarding in forty minutes.
Now I understood why he had been so encouraging.
I was supposed to be gone.
He had timed this perfectly.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him.
That particular rhythm, slightly heavy on the left foot from an old running injury.
Twelve years of listening to a person teaches you things you don't even realize you've learned.
He came around the corner and stopped when he saw me.
"Rachel."
I didn't stand up.
I looked at him the way you look at something you're trying to memorize before it's gone.
"Sit down, Daniel."
He sat in the chair across from me.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
His hands were clasped together.
He looked like a man rehearsing sincerity.
"I know how this looks," he said.
"Do you."
"I need you to let me explain before you do anything."
"Before I do anything," I repeated.
"Like call your lawyer?"
His jaw tightened.
"You didn't actually call Marcus."
"I called David Holt."
He went very still.
"My attorney," I said.
"I have an appointment tomorrow morning.
I have the video saved in three places.
And I have twelve years of joint financial records that I've already asked Carol to help me organize tonight."
"Rachel." His voice dropped.
"You're reacting.
You're in shock.
Just — come somewhere quiet with me and let me talk to you."
"I am somewhere quiet," I said.
"Talk."
---
He talked for eleven minutes.
I know because I watched the clock on the departures board behind his head.
He told me her name was Vanessa.
He told me it had started two years ago.
He told me it wasn't what I thought, that it was complicated, that he had never meant for it to go this far.
He told me the family vacation had been Lauren's idea, that she had suggested it as a way for the children to spend time with Vanessa before — and here he stopped.
"Before what?" I said.
He looked at the floor.
"Before what, Daniel?"
"Before we told you." He said it quietly.
Like quiet made it smaller.
"Lauren thought it would be better if the kids already had a relationship with her.
So it wouldn't be such a shock."
The departures board clicked over behind him.
"You were going to tell me," I said.
"Yes."
"When?"
"When we got back."
"So you were going to take a family vacation with your girlfriend and your children and your father and your sister, and then come home and tell me you wanted a divorce."