“Just go.”
He hesitated as if he wanted to say something, then walked out the door. The moment his truck disappeared down the street, I grabbed my coat and followed him. Rain condensed on the windshield as I remained several cars behind. My hands shook on the steering wheel the entire way.
He led me through neighborhoods I’d never seen before, further from the city than I’d expected.
Then, finally, he turned onto a quiet street, and I saw him.
The blue house.
Yellow flowers adorned the porch just as Lily had drawn them.
I felt sick.
Daniel parked at the curb and got out of the car, carrying some shopping bags.
The front door opened, and a woman appeared.
My heart broke instantly.
She looked exhausted: thin, pale, worn out by grief or stress. A child peeked out from behind his legs, clutching a stuffed dinosaur. Daniel smiled sweetly at him. The boy immediately ran into his arms.
I stopped breathing.
Before I could even think about it, I slammed the car door and ran toward the house.
Daniel saw me first. His face went completely pale.
“Claire—”
“You lied to me?” My voice cracked. “For almost a year?”
The woman looked terrified, and the boy immediately hid behind Daniel.
“Please,” Daniel said softly. “Come in.”
“No. Tell me who it is.”
The woman suddenly covered her mouth and burst into tears.
Innocent crying. Broken crying.
Daniel looked devastated.
“Claire,” he whispered again, “please.”
Something in his expression made my anger waver. Slowly, I entered. The house wasn’t romantic; it was barely usable.
Unpacked boxes filled the corners. Bills littered the kitchen table, next to the children’s medicine and canned goods. A faint smell of soup and laundry detergent hung in the air.
Then I noticed the framed photograph near the couch. A smiling man carrying a child on his shoulders.
My breath caught, hurting.
A sign.
