Chapter 3

Mom.

What a cruel thing to be called.

Angela's hand froze around the cold towel.

I followed her eyes.

Antony's daughter had come out of the nursery, a fuzzy stuffed animal hugged to her chest.

I traced her small figure back into the room, and my eyes suddenly stung.

Angela panicked.

Her voice was tight with worry, but she still forced it down low so Antony and the others wouldn't hear.

"Adam, it's just a word. Edna Fox's never had a mother. She's close to me and she's never had a mother's love, that's the only reason she says it. Don't read too much into it."

I looked at her, my voice hoarse.

"Why is she sleeping in the nursery?"

"Angela, there's another room. Why does she have to sleep in the nursery?"

Angela didn't answer right away.

She set the towel down and quickly scooped up the pouting, hurt-looking Edna, soothing her softly.

"There, there, Mom's here, no more crying."

Then, in the same gentle voice, she comforted a downcast Antony.

I sat alone on the sofa, an outsider who didn't belong.

Like the villain bullying a happy family of three.

Only after she'd calmed them both, closed the door, and shut out every sound did Angela speak.

"Edna loves how dreamy that room is, so I let her stay in it."

"Adam, it's just a room, and she won't be here long. Why react like this?"

There was a tired reproach in her voice when she said it.

I laughed, just once.

Why react like this?

Because that was the room I'd sealed away in grief, after she lost the baby at six months.

Because every single thing in there was a gift I'd placed inside with my own hands, in the depth of how much I missed that child.

Because it was the one place I didn't want that father and daughter to take from me.

My home was no longer my home, and she was asking me why.

I took the heart failure surgery record out of my bag and laid it gently on the table.

"Angela—"

I'd barely started when Edna opened the door and walked out.

She went up to Angela, took her hand, and asked, so carefully.

"Mom, can I really live here?"

"Of course you can."

"Daddy said this is my home now, and I can be with Mom every day from now on. Is that true too?"

Antony stiffened.

Angela's eyes went to me on instinct.

I looked back at her.

Waiting to see how she'd answer.

Two seconds passed. She looked away from me and ruffled the girl's hair, doting.

"Mm-hmm. This is Edna's home now. Mom will be with you every day, and all the pretty little toys in the room will keep you company too."

I stared at her for a moment, then finally stood up.

I'd just picked the surgery record up off the table when she stopped me.

Angela looked at me.

"Adam, be more understanding."

Understanding.

As those two words landed, the last bit of warmth left my chest.

I didn't look at her again. I walked into the bedroom.

I took the suitcase out of the closet and started packing.

Angela followed me in and shut the door.

"Adam, stop this."

"Edna's just a child. Her body hasn't fully recovered. The things Antony and I said—"

I cut her off and finished it for her.

"I know. You were only trying to calm her down."

"If you know that, then why the sour face? Why go head to head with a little kid?"

The moment the words were out, the room went dead silent.

Angela realized she'd gone too far. She drew a deep breath and came to hold me.

"Adam, you're still running a fever. Don't sulk. I'll pay more attention to how you feel from now on."

I stepped away.

Her hands hung frozen in the air.

A soft knock came from the doorway. Antony's voice. "Angela, Edna says she wants you to tuck her in. Could you spare a little time?"

Edna was calling for her at the door too.

"Mom, I want to be like the other kids and have a mommy and a daddy sleep with me. Will you come sleep with Edna?"

Angela's brows drew together.

A few seconds later, she took her hands back.

"Get some rest first. I'll come back once she's asleep."

See.

This was what she meant by paying attention to how I felt.

She walked to the door, then seemed to remember something. "What's that paper in your hand?"