Chapter 1
The new neighbor’s son called my husband “Daddy” on the morning of my forty-second birthday.
I heard it through our doorbell camera.
“Daddy!”
The boy ran from the house across the street and threw himself into Mark’s arms.
My husband caught him without hesitation.
He lifted the child against his chest as if he had done it a hundred times.
Twenty-five minutes earlier, Mark had left our kitchen wearing the red tie I gave him last Christmas.
“Client emergency,” he had said.
I had watched his car turn at the end of the street.
Now he was walking up our new neighbor’s driveway from the opposite direction.
He must have parked around the corner.
A woman appeared in the doorway.
I had seen her beside the moving truck that morning. The neighborhood group said her name was Elena Ruiz.
She took Mark’s briefcase without asking, as if she already knew where it belonged.
Then Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
His own key.
He unlocked Elena’s door and carried the boy inside.
My phone slipped from my hand.
I reached the sink before I threw up.
When I straightened, the house across the street still looked ordinary.
Moving boxes. A child’s bicycle. Curtains waiting to be hung.
Maybe the boy used Daddy for someone who visited often.
But frequent visitors did not carry their own keys.
My phone vibrated.
Mark:
Client is a nightmare. Don’t wait up.
I typed:
I can see you.
Then I deleted it.
If I confronted him now, he would have time to prepare an explanation.
Mark could turn a question around so gently that I ended up apologizing for asking it.
I downloaded the recording and sent it to an email account he did not know about.
Dylan came home from school at four.
He dropped his baseball bag beside the stairs and noticed the lemon cake on the counter.
“Is that for someone?”
“For me.”
He stared at it.
Then his face fell.
“Oh. Mom.”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s your birthday.”
He hugged me, smelling of grass and sweat.
“Dad taking you out?”
“He’s working.”
“Client emergency?”
I looked at him.
“That’s what he told me.”
Mark came home shortly before midnight.
He smelled of soap and a floral perfume I did not own.
“You’re still awake?”
“It’s my birthday.”
His gaze moved to the untouched cake.
“Damn.”
He crossed the kitchen and reached for my hands.
“Nora, I’m sorry. Today got away from me.”
Eighteen years of marriage had taught him exactly how much regret to place in his voice.
He found a candle and pushed it into the cake.
“Make a wish.”
I blew it out.
“How was the client?” I asked.
“Exhausting.”
The lie came without effort.
I cut myself a slice.
“The new neighbor moved in today.”
Mark’s hand stopped against his tie.
“Across the street?”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
“I haven’t spoken to her.”
His shoulders loosened.
“She has a kid,” he said. “You should probably keep Dylan away until we know what kind of family they are.”
I lowered my fork.
“I never told you she had a son.”
Mark stared at me for half a second.
Then he smiled.
“It was in the neighborhood group.”
It wasn’t.
I had checked.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “I must have missed it.”
Across the street, a light came on upstairs.
Mark walked to the window and closed the blinds.
Tomorrow, I was going to meet the boy who called my husband Daddy.