Daisy nods, heart hammering, still uneasy, but firm now.
“Have you told Jon about these comments?”
“No. He doesn’t like me being in cyberspace on principle. He’ll just tell me to kill the account.”
“Men,” says Vanessa.
“Yeah,” says Daisy. She eats her soup, feeling better already. She makes small talk with Vanessa. They laugh about one of the other moms at yoga, talk about a favorite boutique, and critique an amazing new restaurant that opened downtown. Daisy begins to feel as though she just imagined the whole thing.
“How about you?” she asks Vanessa. “How come you don’t have a social media presence?”
“Oh, I did have,” Vanessa says, “but I killed all my profiles about a year ago and went cold turkey.”
“Because you were planning a family?”
Vanessa inhales, sets down her spoon, dabs her mouth carefully with her napkin. In a very measured fashion, she says, “I told you that Haruto works in cybersecurity, right? Well, he got a new contract with a company based out of Singapore. It’s a secretive government thing,and Haruto was concerned that if someone found his wife’s social media profile, it could be used to...compromise his work. And it could risk our safety. I don’t know. We just decided it was better.”
Daisy crooks up her brows, suddenly distracted from her own cyber trolls. “Risk your safety? You mean like...kidnapping or something?”
Vanessa shrugs.
“So Haruto is, like, in government intelligence, or counterintelligence—is that what he does?”
“Something like that.”
Now Daisy is super interested. “So Haruto wanted you off social media?”
Vanessa’s cheeks heat. She looks embarrassed. This only intrigues Daisy further.
“Whatexactlydoes Haruto do?” she asks.
With a wave of her hand, Vanessa says, “I’m sorry, but it’s not something I can really talk about. God, look at my bowl. I’ve eaten everything. Do you want dessert?”
Daisy returns her attention to her bowl and realizes she needs to pee. Like right now. It’s another irritating symptom of her pregnancy. She excuses herself and hurries to the bathroom. When she returns, she sees her phone is no longer hidden beneath the napkin, where she’s sure she left it. It’s on the other side of the table, facedown.
As she reseats herself, she regards Vanessa, then picks up her phone and slips it into her purse.
“The server took the plates,” Vanessa says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted more.”
That’s probably what happened—the waitress moved my phone.
As Daisy is about to suggest ordering a slice of her favorite pie, a man in a coat appears outside the window. He stops right by their table and peers into the window. Vanessa gasps. Daisy’s gaze shoots to her friend.
“What is it?”
“Haruto,” she whispers. Her cheeks go bright red and she hurriedly digs in her purse, finds her wallet. She slaps a wad of cash on the table. “I didn’t realize what the time was. I—I agreed to meet him down the street after our lunch.” She pushes back her chair, but before she can get to her feet, the door swings open with a blast of chill air, and a sturdy Asian-looking man steps into the bistro. He glowers at Vanessa.
The man is not that tall, but he’s built, and he has a presence that seems to shrink the space around him. It certainly shrivels the gorgeous, streamlined Vanessa, who is suddenly flustered, almost panicky, and definitely no longer streamlined.
The man approaches their table. Vanessa, half-risen to her feet, says, “Haruto. I didn’t expect—”
“Have you lost track of the time again?” British accent. Curt voice. Emotionless face.
“I—I was just on my way. This is my friend Daisy Rittenberg, the one I was telling you about from the Yoga Mom’s yoga class?”
Haruto gives Daisy a dismissive nod, then takes hold of his wife’s arm. It’s not a gentle touch. His grasp is firm, and it forces her fully up from her chair.
Shock seizes Daisy’s heart.
