I thought of the paternity paper trembling in his hands.
The white roses.
The threat.
The judge.
The long road between then and here.
“Why now?” I asked.
He looked toward Lily again.
“She asked me last weekend why I wasn’t there when she was born.”
My heart tightened.
“What did you say?”
“I told her I made a selfish choice and hurt you. I told her Eli helped because I failed to. I told her she was never the cause of any of it.”
I studied his face.
For once, I found no performance.
“Good,” I said.
His eyes flicked back to mine.
“Is that all?”
“What else do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“At least you said that honestly.”
A small, tired smile crossed his face.
“I am sorry, Claire.”
The words arrived years late.
They did not heal the scar.
But they stopped poking it.
