“I am… would you mind calling her in for me, please?”
The instant his back was turned, heading toward the kitchen to holler for the girls, I started scanning the living room with a kind of urgency I wasn’t proud of. Framed photos lined the walls and shelves — Ryan and Lily surrounded by people who mostly shared his same dark hair and olive skin tone. His side of the family, I guessed. But nowhere, in any frame I could find, was there a single photo of Lily’s mother.
Come to think of it, in all the weeks they’d lived next door, I realized I had never once actually seen Lily’s mom. Not dropping her off. Not at the mailbox. Not anywhere.
I glanced down the hallway just as a large framed photo hanging upstairs caught my eye — a blonde woman, smiling out from the frame with an expression that suddenly felt important in a way I couldn’t yet explain. Without fully thinking it through, I found myself climbing the stairs toward it.
“What are you doing?”
I spun around and found Ryan frowning up at me from the bottom of the staircase. A dozen flimsy excuses scrambled through my head at once, but none of them made it past my throat. I needed the truth too badly to bother pretending anymore.
“Is that Lily’s mom? Where is she?”
Ryan flinched visibly. “Yeah… that’s Mary. She’s not with us anymore.”
“Because of Jack?” I hurried back down the stairs toward him. “They had an affair, didn’t they? That’s why Lily and Emma look so much alike, isn’t it? Just tell me.”
Ryan’s eyes widened with something closer to horror than guilt, and he shook his head hard. “God, no. Heather — didn’t Jack tell you anything at
“No! He didn’t tell me a single thing!” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “But you clearly know exactly what’s going on here, so please, just tell me the truth.”
“Mommy?”
Lily and Emma had appeared at the end of the hallway, worry stamped across their nearly identical faces.
