You have a daughter? Yes, Harry put his hands on Ella's shoulders, resisting the urge to pull her behind him like a shield. This is Ella. I'm eight, Ella added helpfully. I was in a play last night.
Daddy couldn't come because he was helping you. The words hung in the air like a verdict. Carara's expression shifted again, and Harry watched her take in the details she had been too panicked to notice before. the small house decorated with a child's artwork, the refrigerator covered in school photos and report cards, the stack of picture books on the coffee table, and then her eyes found the note on the coffee table, half hidden beneath the glass of water. She picked it up and read it slowly, her lips moving slightly as she traced the words. "Rachel, I'll call you back." She ended the call before her friend could respond.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Cara looked up at Harry with an expression he had never seen on her face before. Not in six years of working under her. Not in countless meetings and performance reviews and late nights at the office. She looked lost.
Harry. Her voice was. I need to ask you something and I need you to tell me the truth. He nodded even though every muscle in his body was tensed for impact. Did we last night?
Did we? She couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. Harry kept his voice steady, even though his heart was hammering against his ribs. No, nothing happened. You were very drunk at the party.
No one was helping you. Your phone was dead and you couldn't remember your new address and I couldn't leave you there alone. So, I brought you here. He gestured toward the couch. I left clean clothes for you because your dress was ruined.
I wrote that note so you would know where you were when you woke up. I plugged in your phone so you could call someone in the morning. And I slept on the floor in my daughter's room. That's everything. That's the whole story.