Chương 8
Claire had believed she was lying.
“I accused her of stealing.”
“I know.”
“You said nothing.”
“Yes.”
Claire sat across from him.
“Keep going.”
“I bought pills from a guy at work. Sometimes I went forty-eight hours without them. Sometimes I didn’t. I told myself that meant I wasn’t addicted.”
“Did you drive high?”
“Once that I know of.”
“Only once?”
“Only once I remember being high enough that I shouldn’t have driven.”
Claire shut her eyes.
“Were you high with me in the car?”
“No.”
“Lily?”
“She wasn’t born.”
“I know.”
“Sorry.”
She opened her eyes.
“What happened after you woke up?”
Damian looked at his hands.
“Everything hurt. I had a fractured pelvis, three ribs, a shoulder repair, concussion. Javier was dead. I thought I killed him.”
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t know that yet.”
“And Dad came.”
“The morning after I woke.”
“Why him?”
“Hospital had been calling you. He told them he was your father and came up. I was glad to see him.”
That hurt more than Claire expected.
Damian continued.
“He said you were sick. Said the baby was gone. Said you had found out about the pills.”
“How?”
“He knew.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No. He’d had someone checking me.”
“Of course.”
“He showed me a text.”
Claire leaned forward.
“What text?”
“From your number.”
“What did it say?”
Damian looked uncomfortable.
“Damian, what did it say?”
“That you hoped I survived long enough to understand what I’d done to you.”
Claire stared.
“I never wrote that.”
“I know now.”
“Did you keep it?”
“No. It was on his phone. A screenshot.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“He said you didn’t want contact. He said if I cared about you I would disappear.”
“And you did.”
“Eventually.”
“You keep saying eventually.”
“I called. I wrote. I sent flowers once.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Flowers.”
“Bad choice.”
“What kind?”
“Lilies.”
She stared at him.
“Of course you did.”
“I was concussed.”
“You were always terrible at flowers.”
Damian almost smiled.
Claire hated that she almost smiled back.
“Did Dad intercept them?”
“I assume.”
“Don’t assume. What do you know?”
He nodded.
“Right.”
The correction changed something small between them.
“I know the delivery was signed for at his house by someone named M. Sloan.”
“Marjorie.”
“Yes.”
“And you still stopped.”
“Eventually.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his thumb over a tattoo on his left hand.
“Because I was ashamed.”
Claire said nothing.
“I had lied to you. I had stolen from you. Javier was dead. I couldn’t walk without a cane. Then I went into treatment and every counselor kept asking what I could control.”
He looked at her.
“I decided the answer was me.”
“So you convinced yourself leaving was noble.”
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds like you.”
“I know.”
Anger rose again.
“You had a daughter.”
“I thought I didn’t.”
“For fourteen months.”
He nodded.
“After you saw the engagement notice, you suspected Lily existed.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I drove away.”
“Why?”
Damian looked at her for a long time.
“Because I was a coward.”
Claire had expected defense.
The answer left her nowhere to put her anger.
“You could have knocked on the door.”
“Yes.”
“You could have waited for me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have hired a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“You could have found Megan.”
“I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I had spent a year being told that contacting you was selfish. Then I saw evidence that looked like you had built another life.”
“So you protected yourself.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“I told myself I was protecting you.”
Claire looked toward the door where Richard had disappeared.
“Men really enjoy that sentence.”
Damian nodded.
“Apparently.”
She leaned back.
“Why now?”
“Marjorie.”
“Before her.”
“About eight months ago I saw Lily.”
Claire froze.
“Where?”
“Online.”
“My account is private.”
“School fundraiser.”
Claire remembered.
A photograph from Lily’s kindergarten charity run had appeared on the school foundation’s public page.
Claire had asked them to remove it because Lily’s last name was visible.
They did.
Apparently not quickly enough.
“You recognized her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“The caption named you.”
Claire waited.
“I saw her age.”
Damian looked down.
“She had your face.”
People said that often.
Claire had never believed them.
Lily had Damian’s eyes.
“You calculated.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I got sick in a parking lot.”
Claire could see it despite not wanting to.
Damian alone with a phone in his hand, discovering six years compressed into the age of a child.
“What did you do?”
“I called your father.”
Claire stared.
“You called him?”
“I had an old number.”
“What did he say?”
“That Lily was Nathan’s daughter.”
Claire laughed in disbelief.
“And you believed him again?”
“No.”
“Finally.”
“I hired someone.”
“A private investigator?”
“Yes.”
Richard’s world reproducing itself.
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“What did they find?”
“Birth certificate.”
“You’re not listed.”
“No.”
“There’s no father listed.”
“I know.”
“That proves nothing.”
“No.”
“What else?”
“Old hospital billing connected to your pregnancy. Dates. A photograph from your baby shower. A friend of yours from college posted something congratulating you and saying Lily came early but healthy.”
Claire tried to remember the post.
She could not.
“Then Marjorie contacted you?”
“Two months later.”
“Coincidence?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think someone told her I was asking questions.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m not saying he did.”
Claire noticed the discipline.
Six years ago Damian would have accused first and sorted facts later.
“Marjorie said she had been watching your wedding announcements.”
Claire’s mouth tightened.
“Why?”
“She knew your father would do whatever he could to stop me if I ever came back. She wanted me to have the letters before you married.”
Claire looked at the envelope.
“She could have contacted me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“She was afraid of him.”
Claire laughed without humor.
“Everyone was.”
“Were you?”
Damian asked it quietly.
Claire looked toward the ballroom doors.
“Yes.”
May you like
She had never said that aloud.
Not even to her therapist.
