Chapter 2: Seven Days Early

Nora’s POV

The discharge papers arrived at 11:40.

Angela went through the instructions with Ethan, then again with me. When he started to hand me the clipboard, she pointed to the signature line.

“I need yours on this copy, Mr. Caldwell.”

He signed.

“Follow-up Thursday, nine fifteen. The orthopedist on Cooper. And someone needs to notify the school before Monday.”

“I’ll call,” I said.

The answer came before I thought about it.

Sophie slept on the drive back, her splint resting on a folded blanket. Her good hand still held Serena’s cuff. When the fabric slipped between her fingers, Serena tucked it back into her palm.

I watched from the other side of the car.

At the hotel, I unpacked the pharmacy bag and checked everything against the discharge sheet. Then I checked it again.

There was nothing wrong with the labels. I just needed something to do with my hands.

At 6:41, Ethan sent a message to the suite’s group chat.

Table at seven. Come down when you’re ready.

I put on the sweater I’d worn to the hospital. Sophie’s next dose was due at eight, so I brought the pharmacy bag.

At 6:58, I gave the hostess our name.

“Caldwell. Party of three?”

“Four.”

She glanced at the screen.

“Of course. Just a moment.”

I stood beside her while a waiter fetched another chair.

The table could have seated six. Ethan sat facing the room, Sophie beside him on two cushions, her splint resting on the tablecloth. Serena leaned close to hear something she was saying.

Sophie laughed.

I’d spent most of the day waiting to hear that sound.

“Nora.” Serena moved her glass. “We went ahead and ordered. Apparently, the kitchen’s closing at eight because of the storm.”

Three place settings. Three water glasses.

The waiter set my chair down.

“Why didn’t you wait?”

“She was hungry,” Ethan said, still looking at his phone.

“You told me seven.”

“She wanted to eat at six thirty.”

“Then you could have told me six thirty.”

He looked up at last.

“Sit down, Nora. He brought you a chair.”

The waiter was still holding its back.

“Thank you,” I told him.

I sat and put the pharmacy bag beside my feet.

Sophie leaned toward Serena’s tote.

“Can I give it to you now?”

“Eat a little first.”

“But I want you to see.”

She pulled at the handles with her good hand. Serena steadied the bag while she worked a box free, tissue paper catching on her splint.

I recognized it.

It had been on the tray in room 412. A wrapped shoebox, the lid trimmed down, one corner showing beneath the paper.

I’d seen it and thought, Oh.

That was all. One small, foolish moment of relief.

Sophie pushed it toward Serena.

“Happy birthday!”

Inside was a little cardboard rink. Foil covered the ice, and two pipe-cleaner skaters stood in the middle, one blue, one red.

“Your birthday’s in seven days,” Sophie explained. “But I finished it last night with Miss Dana. She let me use the good glue.”

Serena touched one of the figures.

“You made this?”

“That one’s you.”

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

“I thought it was for me.”

I hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Sophie looked at me. Then she looked down at the box.

“I didn’t forget you. I just forgot your birthday.”

I pressed my lips together.

“Sophie,” Ethan said.

She glanced at him, waiting.

He picked up his water.

“It’s been a difficult week,” Serena said gently. “She’s six, Nora.”

“I know how old she is.”

The words came out sharper than I intended. Sophie’s good hand withdrew from the box.

I wanted to take them back. I wanted to be able to smile at the little rink and ask how she’d made the skaters stand.

Instead, I bent to pick up the pharmacy bag.

“Finish your dinner, sweetheart. I’ll take you upstairs at eight.”

“You’ve only just sat down,” Serena said. “Have some soup.”

“I’ll be in the suite.”

The waiter stepped aside to let me pass. He still had my unused menu in his hand.

At eight, I brought Sophie upstairs and gave her the medicine.

Twenty minutes later, Ethan came into the sitting room and shut the door.

“She’s asking why you left.”

I set down my pen.

“She needed her dose at eight. She’s had it.”

“You could have given it to her at the table.”

“Yes.”

He waited for more.

I turned the hotel stationery toward him.

“Her care schedule. The medication times are copied from the discharge sheet. Thursday’s appointment is here, and the school number.”

He read it without touching it.

“The instructions for her brace are underneath. You need to check the skin when it comes off.”

“All right.”

“Tomorrow’s flight is at two forty. Someone needs to keep her medical letter with her boarding pass. Who’s taking care of that?”

“You are.”

“No. You need to do it.”

His gaze lifted.

“What?”

“Keep the letter. Set an alarm for her medicine. Tell me you’ve done it so I don’t have to keep checking.”

“Nora—”

“I need you to be responsible for something without waiting for me to remind you.”

He pulled out the chair but didn’t sit.

“You’re doing this over dinner?”

“I called a lawyer this afternoon.”

His hand stopped on the chair.

“At four ten,” I added. “In the stairwell by the ice machine.”

I’d stood there through the whole call because I couldn’t bear to sit on the bed and hear myself say it.

“A divorce lawyer.”

Ethan looked toward the bedroom door.

I opened the shared calendar on my phone.

“I’m taking myself off the household reminders. Your mother’s Sunday lunches. The dry cleaning. Our anniversary. The club dinner in June.”

I tapped the first entry. My name disappeared from the notification list.

“You’ll need to remember those yourself.”

“And Sophie?”

“Her calendar stays. I’ll keep her appointments and answer when she calls. I’m her mother.”

“Then what exactly are you doing?”

I looked up at him.

“I’m leaving you.”

He let out a breath through his nose.

“You’ve removed yourself from a calendar, Nora. Take a few days before you turn this into something expensive.”

I could still put the reminder back. My thumb was resting beside the button.

I locked the screen.

“I’m flying back tomorrow. I’ll stay with Vivienne until I find a place.”

“You’ll be home in a week.”

“No.”

“Nora.”

“I want the separation arrangements in writing before I take anything out of the house. I’ve asked for the trust statement and our joint account records. I’d like copies by Friday.”

He looked at the care schedule again.

For a moment, I thought he might finally pick it up.

“She’s six,” he said instead. “You’re going to tell a six-year-old her mother’s leaving?”

My eyes went to the bedroom door.

I had been putting that conversation off since the lawyer asked whether we had children.

“I’m going to tell her where I’ll be.”

“And you think that makes it all right?”

“No.”

I capped the pen.

“But I’m going to tell her myself.”

Sophie had her penguin tucked against her chest.

I sat at the foot of the bed, where I’d sat in the hospital. This time, she watched me.

“Are you coming home on Sunday?”

“Not to the house, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Dad and I are going to live in different places for a while.”

Her fingers tightened around the penguin.

“Where will I live?”

“We’ll work that out with you. You’ll have somewhere to sleep with both of us.”

“But where will you be?”

“At Vivienne’s first. You know her apartment.”

Sophie nodded without looking at me.

“I’m taking you to your wrist appointment on Thursday,” I said. “And I’ll call every night at seven thirty. You can call me, too.”

“But you come home.”

I moved closer along the bed.

“I’ll still come to see you. I’ll still take care of you.”

She picked at a loose thread on the penguin’s flipper.

“Who’ll do my hair?”

“Dad, when you’re with him.”

“He doesn’t know the pony.”

“I’ll show him.”

“He pulls.”

“I’ll tell him that, too.”

Her mouth trembled. She pressed it into the penguin’s head.

“You could just stay.”

I reached for her good hand. This time, she let me take it.

“I know.”

I couldn’t make the rest sound simple enough for her. I wasn’t sure I could say it without crying.

“This isn’t because of your birthday present,” I managed. “Or anything you said. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

She turned toward the window.

I stayed beside her until she fell asleep. Then I checked her brace and set the next medication alarm.

Eleanor called at 9:50.

“Nora, sweetheart. Have you eaten?”

“I had coffee.”

“Today?”

I rubbed the place between my eyebrows.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

For a second, I nearly cried. Over that, of all things.

“I’ve spoken to Ethan,” she continued. “I’m sure there’s plenty he hasn’t told me. Come and see me when you’re back. Wednesday, nine o’clock. Eighty-second Street. We’ll have breakfast.”

“Eleanor—”

“Before you sign anything. Before Vivienne finds you an apartment and has your things moved in.”

“I’ve already asked to stay with her.”

“And you should, if you need some quiet.” Her voice softened. “Just don’t rush the rest. Leave yourself a way back.”

I looked toward Sophie.

She had rolled slightly in her sleep. The penguin was slipping from her good arm, and I caught it before it fell.

“I’m not going back.”

A pause.

“Then come and tell me that over breakfast.”

She hung up before I could answer.

I set the phone beside the care schedule. Ethan still hadn’t picked it up.

For years, I would have sent him a photograph of it. Added the reminders to his phone. Made sure nothing could be missed.

I opened our messages.

Have you read Sophie’s schedule? I need you to confirm you’ll handle her care during the flight.

His reply came a minute later.

Yes. I’ll handle it.

I checked Sophie’s alarm once more and put my phone down.

He still thought I would be home in a week.

Tomorrow, I would land in New York and go to Vivienne’s.