Belinda blinked and looked away. She seemed to lose her train of thought, then returned her gaze to Kate. Her expression intensified.
“I have a great memory,” Belinda said. “It’s one of my superpowers. When we were little, in first grade, Conor said he wanted to marry me. It was after he broke his arm. I was the first person to sign his cast, you know. Our parents took us to Ocean Beach, and when we went on the little train, he proposed. I still wear the ring.” She held out her hand, and Kate saw the glittery turquoise nail polish that she had noticed earlier, the tiny silver ring on her pinkie finger.
“Lots of little boys want to marry little girls,” Kate said, trying to keep her voice steady. “They grow out of it.”
“Some don’t,” Belinda said. She stared hard at Kate, smiling with wild eyes.
Kate stood still, without expression, breathing calmly, knowing Belinda was unhinged—that was clear. She and Conor would laugh about it later—he would reassure her that there was nothing to worry about. She wondered how Garrett could have wound up dating this crazy person, how he could have brought her to the rehearsal dinner. One thing was for sure: There was no way she was coming to the wedding.
“There’s something I have to show you,” Belinda said, holding her phone out.
Kate turned away. She told herself that nothing on earth could make her look at that phone, but Belinda grabbed her arm with one hand and shoved the phone into Kate’s face with the other.
“Look!” Belinda said, her voice rising, her tone aggressive. “Look at this, now!”
“Kate, is everything okay?” Maeve asked, stepping forward. “Should I get Conor?”
“Yes, get Conor,” Belinda said.
Kate didn’t want to give Belinda the satisfaction of looking at her phone—she had told herself she wouldn’t—but suddenly she couldn’t stop herself. Her gaze was pulled to the screen, where she saw a photo of Belinda holding an infant.
“Our baby,” Belinda said.
“What?” Kate asked, her head buzzing, making her feel as if she might pass out.
“Our daughter. Conor’s and mine,” Belinda said. “Look at her eyes.”
Kate stared at the phone. The photo was a selfie; Belinda had been balancing the baby while holding her camera, and the picture had blurred. Kate couldn’t tell how long ago it had been taken, althoughshe had a fleeting impression of Belinda looking very young. But every detail fell away except for one: The baby had blue eyes.
“Conor’s blue eyes,” Belinda said firmly, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “And he knows all about her. Even if he tries to tell you he doesn’t—believe me, he knows.”
Conor bolted around the table. Garrett was right behind him.
“Belinda,” Garrett said. “What the hell?”
Conor didn’t bother with words. He was very quiet. He stepped between Kate and Belinda. He reached for the phone, but Belinda yanked it away so violently that she lost her balance and stumbled backward into the wrapped package. Kate heard the antique gold frame crack and the painting’s canvas tear.
Garrett crouched beside Belinda, who had struck her head when she fell. He seemed to be checking her over, making sure she wasn’t badly hurt. Kate heard her whimpering, but she could only look at Conor.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Kate,” Conor said.
“It is true, isn’t it?” she asked. The look on his face, and the fact that he didn’t answer, told her what she had known the minute she saw those blue eyes.
Then she turned and walked away, out of the room, away from the life she had thought was hers.
3
Friday, July 2; 10:00 p.m.
Conor stood still, his heart thudding out of his chest. He stared at Belinda crumpled on the floor. What had she just done? He had only heard part of it, but he had seen the devastation in Kate’s eyes. He started to run after Kate—he would catch up to her, hold her, make everything go back to the way it was supposed to be. But Tom grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Conor, hold on,” Tom said. “Take a minute.”
“I have to get to her,” Conor said. His face felt hot.
“Not yet,” Tom said sternly.
