Chapter 5: Backstage

Odette took the girls upstairs before Conal could stand all the way up.

She did it without a word, one twin on each hip, and she gave him a look on the way past that would have curdled milk.

I walked backstage with my cane and my chin up, and I heard his boots behind me.

I did not stop until we reached the empty corridor behind the dressing rooms.

There was nobody there but a rack of coats and a fire door.

"Four years old," Conal said.

His voice was very quiet.

"That's what she said. Four and a half years since you left. Leandra. Do the math with me."

"No."

"Please."

"There's nothing to count," I said. "They're my daughters. They're mine, and that's all anyone needs to know."

"They have my eyes."

"Lots of people have gray eyes."

"Not like that." He pushed a hand through his hair. "She stood in front of me and put her hands on her hips. That's how my mother stood."

I gripped the cane.

I had not known that.

I had not known a lot of things about his mother, because Conal had never told me anything about her.

"Whatever you think you saw," I said, "you're wrong."

"You wrote me a text that said no."

"I lied."

He went still.

"I lied," I said again, because it was easier the second time. "I was five weeks along. I was on a plane to New York. I wanted you to stop calling."

"You wanted me to think you had lost it."

"I wanted you to think there was nothing to look for."

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