Chapter 2
Mark left at seven thirty the next morning.
“I’ll be with the client all day,” he said. “Don’t wait for dinner.”
He kissed my forehead and drove away.
I waited until his car disappeared before wrapping the remains of my birthday cake.
At ten, I carried it across the street.
Elena opened the door but did not invite me inside.
“Nora,” I said. “I live across the street.”
Her gaze flicked toward my house.
“I know.”
She corrected herself quickly.
“I mean, I saw you yesterday. I’m Elena.”
“I thought you and your son might like some cake.”
“That’s very kind.”
The boy appeared behind her holding a stuffed dinosaur.
Up close, the resemblance struck so hard that the plate tilted in my hands.
He had Mark’s gray eyes.
When he smiled at the cake, a dimple appeared in his left cheek.
Mark had the same dimple.
So did Dylan.
Then the boy raised one eyebrow while studying me—the exact expression I had watched across my breakfast table for eighteen years.
“Is that lemon?”
“Yes.”
“My dad likes lemon.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around the door.
“Leo is eight,” she said. “He thinks that means he can answer every question himself.”
Now I had his name.
And his age.
Eight.
“Can I carry it?” Leo asked.
“I’ve got it,” Elena said.
She took the plate before he could step closer.
“Will his father be helping you unpack?” I asked.
Elena’s expression remained polite.
“Leo’s father helps when he can.”
“Does he live nearby?”
Her eyes moved toward my house again.
“Closer than he used to.”
“Daddy was here yesterday,” Leo said.
Elena placed one hand on his shoulder.
“Go put your dinosaur upstairs.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Leo frowned.
“Daddy says I can call him that inside.”
Elena’s smile disappeared.
“Leo gets confused sometimes.”
“I’m not confused.”
She turned him toward the stairs.
This time, he went.
Elena and I looked at each other.
She had recognized me before I introduced myself.
She knew exactly who lived across the street.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I said.
“Thank you.”
Her fingers were cold when she took the cake.
The door closed between us.
I returned home and searched Elena’s name.
She had joined the neighborhood group six days earlier. Her old address was in another school district. Her photographs showed Leo at every age, but never his father.
I searched for divorce attorneys and saved one number.
Grace Miller.
I did not call yet.
I wanted more than resemblance and the word Daddy. I wanted to know what Mark would deny before I gave him the chance.
At five forty, his car pulled into our driveway.
Almost two hours earlier than he had promised.
He entered without his briefcase.
“The last meeting was canceled,” he said.
Then he kissed my cheek and asked what I was making for dinner.
His work phone was still in his hand.
For the first time in eighteen years, I found myself wondering what he kept inside it.