“Did ye just fucking slap me?”
“Are you cheating on me?” Britt froze. Her eyes grew wide, and panic blazed through her chocolate-brown gaze. She stumbled away from him. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not what I meant. I just … I need to know what’s going on here. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Give me a sec,” Lachlan said, his heart clenching at the sight of Paloma in the hallway. Their daughter had already lost her mother once—he had to handle this carefully. “We’ll talk as soon as I get back.”
Britt turned to see Paloma, then exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “Of course.”
Lachlan walked past Britt and stopped in front of Paloma. “You want to talk, hen?”
“Yes,” Paloma said, reaching for his hand. Her small fingers wrapped around his, trusting and vulnerable. He gently gripped her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Paloma went to the shelf, grabbed her stuffed teddy bear, Mr. Bow, and then plopped on the bed.
“Close the door, please,” Paloma said, her eyes fixed on the open space. He complied and then sat down next to her.
“Wow, I can’t believe you put away all your Barbies. So neat, too. I’m proud of you,” Lachlan said, wrapping an arm around Paloma’s shoulders. The scent of her strawberry shampoo—the same kind Britt used on her since she was a baby—made his throat tight.
"They live in their fancy condo now. Britt says Barbies like to go home after playing just like I do," Paloma said, clutching Mr. Bow. Her small fingers worked the worn ribbon like Britt did when she was nervous. The gesture hit him like a physical blow—another piece of her mother living on in their child.
“Aye, is that what … Britt … said?” Lachlan asked, then placed a kiss on Paloma’s forehead.
"Daddy?" Paloma's voice was small, uncertain. "Is it bad that I showed her Mr. Bow?"
The question squeezed his heart. "No, hen. It's not bad at all."
"She has Mommy’s name, and she looks like Mommy, but she doesn't remember us," Paloma said, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
"I know, hen. It's hard when someone doesn't remember who they are."
"Do you think she's my real mommy? The one in the pictures?" Paloma's eyes shone with hope that made his chest ache.
"I'm trying to find out."
"I want her to be my mommy. She plays with me just like you said mommy would." Paloma hugged Mr. Bow tighter. "Can she stay even if she's not my real mommy?"
“I don’t know, hen,” Lachlan hedged. There was no guarantee that he’d be able to convince Britt of the truth. That she’d stick around to be with them.
"But I like her," Paloma said with a pout.
“I do, too,” Lachlan admitted. “I need to go talk to her about grown-up stuff. Promise me you’ll stay in your room, okay?”
"But Daddy, you always lock the door anyway."
“Stop being a smart arse, would ye?”
“No bad words, Daddy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” Paloma said, tugging at the bear’s bow. "She knew Mr. Bow's name, Daddy. Just like that! Can you help her remember the rest?"
"I hope so," Lachlan said, his heart aching with the same hope he saw in his daughter's eyes. "But don't get your hopes too high, okay?"
"Okay," Paloma said, but he didn't believe her. How could he when his hopes were higher than hers? He was asking his little girl to do something that he couldn’t.
Easing out of her bedroom, he joined Britt back in the living room, where she paced across the space.
“You lied to me,” Britt said, her voice low and cold.
"You're the one who taught me that omissions aren't lies. 'The absence of something is nothing, so it can't be a lie.' Remember?" The words felt like a lifeline thrown between them.
