Part 3

Inside were the remnants of my old life.

My wedding invitation.

A photograph of Dominic asleep on our honeymoon with a book open across his chest.

A pressed flower from his mother’s garden.

Three copies of letters I had sent after discovering my pregnancy.

And the response.

I unfolded it carefully.

The paper had yellowed slightly along one edge.

The Moretti crest remained embossed at the top.

Dear Mrs. Moretti.

I did not need to continue reading.

I knew every sentence.

Mr. Moretti acknowledges receipt of your correspondence regarding the pregnancy.

Given the circumstances surrounding the dissolution of your marriage, Mr. Moretti does not intend to contest your stated desire for sole responsibility.

He relinquishes any expectation of involvement.

Future communication should be directed through counsel.

At the bottom was Samuel Russo’s signature.

Below it were the initials D.M.

Dominic Moretti.

I had once assumed they meant approval.

A quiet sound came from behind me.

“Mommy?”

I folded the paper quickly.

Eli stood on the staircase.

His hair stuck up on one side.

“Why are you awake?”

“I was thirsty.”

I walked to him.

“Water?”

He nodded.

I carried him to the kitchen even though he was becoming too heavy.

He leaned his head against my shoulder.

After drinking half a glass, he looked at me.

“Was that man my daddy?”

Children possessed a merciless instinct for questions adults spent years avoiding.

I sat beside him.

“Yes.”

He absorbed this quietly.

“Does he know?”

“He does now.”

Eli looked toward the hallway.

“Why didn’t he know before?”

My throat tightened.

“I thought he did.”

“Did he forget?”

“No.”

I brushed his hair away from his forehead.

“I think some grown-ups made mistakes.”

“Big mistakes?”

“Yes.”

He considered this.

“Bigger than when Lucy put purple paint in the fish bowl?”

Despite everything, I laughed.

“Much bigger.”

Eli nodded gravely.

“That was pretty big.”

I kissed his forehead.

He climbed off the chair, then turned around.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Is he nice?”

The question hurt because I did not know how to answer it anymore.

Dominic had once been very kind to me.

He had also doubted me when trust mattered most.

People were rarely one thing.

“I think,” I said carefully, “we’re going to find out.”

The doorbell rang at seven-thirty the next morning.

I was making pancakes.

Lucy was wearing a paper crown.

Eli was attempting to determine whether maple syrup improved scrambled eggs.

I looked through the window and immediately wished I had not.

Dominic stood on my front step.

Alone.

No driver.

No security.

No Isabella.

He wore yesterday’s black suit beneath a dark overcoat.

He looked exhausted.

When I opened the door, his eyes moved briefly past me.

The smell of pancakes escaped into the cold morning air.

“You found my address.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I own the hotel where you work.”

“Of course.”

He almost smiled.

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

That surprised him.

I folded my arms.

“The children are eating breakfast.”

“I know.”

“That sentence is exactly why you’re staying outside.”

His expression tightened.

“Natalie, I’m not here to take anything from you.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You thought it.”

“I thought a lot of things.”

He accepted that.

“I want to see the letter.”

I had expected the request.

I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me.

“Your father-in-law wrote it.”

“He isn’t my father-in-law.”

I looked at him.

Dominic rubbed a hand over his face.

“Isabella and I were never married.”

My surprise must have shown.

He gave a humorless smile.

“You assumed we were.”

“The newspapers called her your partner.”

“She attends events with me.”

“For five years?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His gaze drifted toward the frost gathering along my porch railing.

“Because I was angry.”

“At me?”

“At myself.”

The answer irritated me.

“That sounds very poetic after five years.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”

“Good.”

“I’m asking you to show me the letter.”

I studied him.

There was something unfamiliar about Dominic that morning.

Uncertainty.

He had once carried certainty like armor.

Now he looked like a man who had discovered a door in his own house that he had never noticed before.

I went inside and returned with the envelope.

Dominic unfolded it.

His eyes moved across the page.

At first he looked confused.

Then his face hardened.

“That isn’t my signature.”

“The initials are yours.”

“They’re typed.”

I looked closer.

He was right.

I had never noticed.

Dominic turned the page over.

“Samuel retired eight months before this date.”

My pulse quickened.

“What?”

“He had a stroke.”

“You never told me.”

“We weren’t speaking.”

The words landed heavily.

He continued.

“He stopped practicing entirely.”

“Then who wrote this?”

“I don’t know.”

A small voice came from the other side of the door.

“Mommy?”

Lucy.

I opened it immediately.

She stared at Dominic.

Then she looked at me.

Then back at him.

“You’re the grumpy man.”

Dominic crouched.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Lucy opened the door wider.

“You look less grumpy today.”

“Thank you.”

She examined him.

“Are you Daddy?”

Dominic stopped breathing.

I had not told Lucy yet.

She pointed toward Eli, who was standing several feet behind her.

“He told me.”

Of course he had.

Dominic glanced at me.

I said nothing.

His voice softened.

“Yes.”

Lucy thought about this.

“Where were you?”

No question in the world could have humbled Dominic Moretti more completely.

He looked at her.

“I didn’t know where I was supposed to be.”

Lucy frowned.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No.”

He nodded.

“It doesn’t.”

She studied him another moment.

Then she held out half a pancake.

“Do you want this?”

Dominic looked at the slightly mangled pancake in her palm.

“Yes.”

I almost objected.

Then I stopped myself.

He took it.

Lucy smiled.

His mother’s smile.

Dominic turned his face away.

Eli approached cautiously.

“Do you like dinosaurs?”

“I don’t know very much about them.”

Eli’s expression became deeply concerned.

“That’s bad.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“You can learn.”

Dominic nodded solemnly.

“I’d like to.”

The morning should not have mattered.

It was only pancakes.

Only children asking questions.

Only Dominic sitting awkwardly at my kitchen table while Lucy explained Bellafina and Eli described the difference between a stegosaurus and an ankylosaurus.

But watching him listen to them broke something open inside me.

Not love.

Not forgiveness.

Possibility.

That was more frightening.

After breakfast, Maya took the children upstairs to dress.

Dominic and I returned to the letter.

“I had my office search the archived correspondence logs,” he said.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“You didn’t sleep.”

“Neither did you.”

I ignored that.

“What did they find?”

“Nothing from you.”

My stomach sank.

“Then maybe the letters never arrived.”

“One did.”

I looked up.

“The courier receipt still exists.”

He placed a printed page on the table.

It showed my name.

His office.

A delivery timestamp.

And a signature.

Someone had received my third letter.

I leaned closer.

The signature was illegible.

Dominic pointed toward a code beside it.

“That’s an employee identification number.”

“Whose?”

His face became unreadable.

“Isabella’s.”

For several seconds, I heard nothing but the refrigerator humming.

Dominic sat opposite me.

“She signed for your letter.”

I thought of Isabella’s trembling hand at the gala.