He nodded curtly; then the closet went dark, and the sound of writing came back. But I could guess what he was worried about. If he really thought someone might see us inside the house, he’d definitely be worried about someone seeing us leave. And we couldn’t just sneak through the darkened rooms in silence, slip into the garage, and then go driving away to safety.

My car wasn’t safely in the garage like usual. I’d parked on the driveway. Stupid. His car was blocked in, and mine was right under the spotlight of a streetlamp. As one of us opened the driver’s side and the other one tried to get Grace in the car seat, we’d be lit like actors on a stage.

The faster my pulse raced, the more I wanted to retreat with Grace, keep her safe, curl my body around hers.

In the dark, Michael was a shadowy form like the literal embodiment of the monster in the closet. If he was sane, if he was still the Michael I knew, then I also knew what he was doing. He was scribbling down a plan on the pad. The thrum of danger, waiting, and not-knowing was worse than anything. I put my hand over his. “Just—” I started to say, but he shook me off and put his fingers over my mouth hard. I felt the paper notepad pressed into my hands, and I had to bite back the words.

He held up the phone again, the light quavering in his shaking hand.

We have to go. It’s Brady. Don’t let him see. Go fast to the driver’s side. I’ll take Grace.

And then underneath: No talking. I love you.

Those last three words scared me most of all. They were tacked on the end like a “just in case” postscript. This was the moment when all those vows on our wedding day would be put to the test. You think you will love and honor someone, but how do you really know until the chips are down? Grace’s small body radiated warmth as I raised her up and kissed her.

The light was out again; the closet was pitch-black, but backlit by my memory, I could still see Michael all our years together. When the world believed Aimee’s lies, his faith in me had been absolute, and I’d never known why I deserved it or how I could repay it. I’d said something about that once, and he’d told me, “In marriage, it’s not a question of repaying. Where you go, I go. We’re a team.”

I took another deep breath of Grace’s head and lifted her onto Michael’s shoulder.

Once her comforting weight was gone, I felt chilled, unmoored. But Michael’s hand found mine. He pressed the car keys into my hand, and with a finger he tapped out one, two, three.