“Whether you were still married to me.”
Marisol stood.
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“What else?”
“Whether you had a daughter.”
My eyes went
immediately to Lily.
She was sitting on the carpet, coloring.
Safe.
Happy.
Purple crayon moving across paper.
“Why would she ask that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Rebecca answer?”
“Yes.”
I pressed my fingers to my temple.
“Why?”
“She thought Claire was asking because of me.”
“Because of your investigation?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did Claire say?”
“I don’t have the full conversation.”
“Get it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try faster.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Ethan went quiet.
Then said, “I will.”
For once, he didn’t correct my tone.
Didn’t tell me to calm down.
Didn’t take control.
That mattered.
More than I wanted it to.
“Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not forgiving you.”
“I know.”
“But I need you to tell me everything from now on.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding what I can handle.”
“Yes.”
“No protecting me with lies.”
His answer took longer.
Then:
“Yes.”
I looked at Lily.
“Good.”
I
ended the call.
Marisol sat slowly.
“Well.”
I stared at her.
