A pair of blue-and-yellow parrots hop from the tree above to a nearby palm. Tom looks up, distracted for a moment. Maybe it’s the vivid colors, the clumsy way they move. Or maybe he just needs a second longer before going on. That’s okay.
His gaze turns back to me.
“Emily set the house on fire, about a year and a half after Chris. She’d found out Jay was having an affair with Janice, our PR agent at the time. That was the final straw for her.”
Emily.
I’ve had so many questions about her. How she’d grieved, how she survived losing a child.
She didn’t. She burned everything to the ground.
“How do you know it was her?”
“Joan saw her do it.”
“The kids were inside?” I ask, even though Stella had already mentioned that part.
“Yes. Her own daughters were inside. Janice and her son, Luca, too. She knew they were all in there and still…” His words choke off, his hands beginning to tremble. He presses them into the ground, gripping the grass.
“I’ve never told anyone this. I wasn’t allowed to. I—I was so scared, Yosh. I went through hell. I thought it was happening all over again. My daughter…”
He gasps, covering his face as the tears flow freely anyway. “My daughter.”
I tuck him against my shoulder. I don’t care who sees. Not the people. Not the cameras.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You can feel it. You’re allowed to talk. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
His shoulder softens against my collarbone.
After a little while he pulls away and wipes his face.
“When we heard the news, we drove back as fast as we could. Forty-five minutes seemed like an eternity. Janice got Luca out first, ran back inside, risking her life to save the girls. The fire was everywhere. Janice got badly burned, but she got the girls out. It was a miracle they all survived.”
“Fuck, Tom…” My voice breaks on his name.
Images flash through my mind—Tom arriving to see their house in flames. Him getting out of the car, running toward a little girl covered in soot. The terror. The not knowing during the drive back. An hour, maybe longer, believing it was happening all over again.
Those images tear me apart.
Tom pulls away. With a quick glance, he points toward the camera overlooking the garden.
“Let’s not fuck this up, okay? We have a secret to keep.”
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
We take a moment for breathwork, centering on deep inhales and the sound of the waterfall.
Eyes closed, he’s finding his focus again. I watch him do it.
And meanwhile, I’m losing mine.
My head is split between strategy and restraint. There’s one question burning at the tip of my tongue. I know I’m stepping onto thin ice, but I need the truth.
He licks his lips. “It feels good to finally get it out.”
“You’re doing great, Tom.” I give his arm a squeeze. ”Can I ask you one more thing?”
