one night.”
She studied me.
“One night, Mom.”
The next morning, I asked Dad the question that had kept me awake.
“When did you see him?”
“About ten months after he left.”
“He came back?”
“He wanted to see you.”
“And you stopped him.”
Dad nodded.
“You let me believe he never tried.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“That wasn’t yours to decide.”
He looked down.
“I was wrong.”
By noon, I had Carl’s number.
This time, nobody was deciding what happened next except me.
I called.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Carl.”
Silence.
Then quietly, “Olivia.”
“I have the letters.”
“Is Lily—”
“Don’t ask about Lily yet.”
“All right.”
“I need to see you.”
We met that afternoon.
For thirteen years, I’d imagined Carl far away, living another life. Instead, he was only about forty minutes away, standing in a quiet house with no wedding ring
