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A sharp voice snapped my attention to Jack. He cornered a kid half his size against a playset, his fists balled.
I hung up as Jack shouted in the kid’s face. The smaller boy froze, his eyes wide. He tried to escape, but Jack shoved him back.
I jogged toward them. “Jack, no!”
Jack’s arms dropped to his sides as he turned to me, frowning. The boy slipped away and ran to his mom. I gave her a wave and an apologetic smile.
Then I knelt in front of Jack. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“He took my slide,” Jack said, a sullen edge to his words.
“Your slide? It belongs to everyone.”
He pouted. “It was my turn.”
I held his shoulders. “Jack, we don’t push people around.”
His gaze lowered. “I was just playing.”
“Playing doesn’t look like this. This is bullying, and it’s something we never do. Got it?”
He nodded. “Yes, Daddy. Sorry.”
I pulled him into a hug. “We’re the good guys. We protect, we don’t scare.”
My heart hammered as I replayed the incident. My three-year-old was ready to beat down another boy. Was that normal? Or was it a reflection of the life I led?
As we walked home, Jack chattered about everything but the confrontation. He’d moved on, but I couldn’t. I saw a future I hadn’t considered until now—where Jack didn’t play with trains but maybe…followed tracks I’d laid out without even realizing it.
Fuck no.
I’d work harder. I’d be better. My choices wouldn’t define him.
I’d make sure of it.
THIRTY-ONE
VIOLET
The restaurant buzzed with the warmth of family and friends gathered to celebrate our future together. Jack sat in a chair, every bit the dashing young gentleman in a suit that mirrored his daddy’s. Surrounded by Achille’s sisters, he soaked in the attention. They doted on him, fed him bites, and played chase around the tables—a spectacle that should’ve had me eager to join in. Instead I stood outside. Stars overhead twinkled. I pretended one was Elise.
“Hey, sis. Life tossed us a curveball bigger than the ones Mr. Jenkins threw in our backyard games. I wish I could talk to you. I hope you’re at peace, singin’ with the angels and keepin’ Patsy Cline company.”
Those bank statements had thrown me for a loop, churning doubts about my fiancé. Achille’s relationship with Elise was much more tangled than he’d let on.
It burned like salt in a fresh wound.
Who was he, really? He’d lied to me about Elise. Claimed that their relationship was casual when he’d sent her thousands. What did it mean? Were the payments proof of a bond deeper than anything he and I shared? Did he truly let Elise go, or was I just a stand-in for what they had?
I had to face him. Ask questions.
But something told me I’d hate his answers.
A wild grief ripped through me as I imagined the fallout. This was so unfair. The truth mattered, yes, but so did love. Love bound us together. Love for Jack kept my heart beating when Elise’s murder broke it. It couldn’t survive another blow.
“You’re missing your party.”
My fiancé’s smooth baritone floated in the air. Behind me, Achille stepped onto the terrace, his frame blocking the warm light from inside. His eyes bathed me in admiration.
