Prologue
The party is fit for a princess.
That’s what Joyce says, adjusting the banner she made herself that hasHappy Birthday Addiein pink glitter letters. It’s crooked, strung up between two trees.
It’s going to stay crooked, and it’s still gonna be the best day of her granddaughter’s life regardless. But she adjusts it again anyway, and I don’t say a word about it.
“She’s something else, ain’t she?” Beside me, Frank’s watching Addie, her pink dress grass-stained from the day, a mountain of wrapping paper surrounding her even though she’s barely begun opening her presents.
We may have gone a little overboard, but that’s bound to happen when you’re an only childandthe only grandchild.
She holds up a new set of paint, turning it over in her hands with an excited gasp.
“She is,” I agree.
Frank’s never been a man of many words, ever since I met him back in high school. I used to think it meant he didn’t like me. That maybe he thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.
Lord knowsIthought that.
But in the years since, I’ve learned that’s just him. Not so different from my own father, who died before Addie’s firstbirthday. Frank and Joyce do what they can to fill the hole left by my parents, but I still wish they were here to see this.
They would have loved the little girl Addie is becoming.
Across the yard, Jess is crouched beside her, helping her with a bow tied around a package, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder, catching the light. She smiles openly when Addie says something to her. The love on her face clear to anyone.
She used to look at me like that too, but it’s been years.
I don’t blame her for that. Growing apart after is natural. I can’t expect her to look at me the same way she did when we were still kids, figuring out life. Now there are bills, and late hours, and parenting.
She’s a good mom, no matter how she feels about me.
Once the ribbon is off, Addie rips into the box and presents a sketchbook, gasping so loudly that the rest of us all laugh. “Mommy!” she exclaims, holding it up with both hands, showing Jess what her grandparents bought for her. “Look!”
“I know, baby.”
Frank has a proud smile on his face when he turns to me. “Our girl’s gonna be a famous artist one of these days.”
“God help me.” I’ve known that since she painted the walls of her bedroom, and they didn’t look all that bad, when she wasfive.
Joyce appears at Frank’s side to refill his tea with a pitcher from the kitchen and gives me a kind smile as she passes. I watch her move back toward the house and appreciate, not for the first time today, how lucky I am to have this.
A loving family and a little girl sitting in the grass, beaming up at me when she opens the doll she’s been asking for since her best friend Emily got the same one. Her whole beautiful life ahead of her.
It’s a perfect day.
And then the gate opens.
I don’t see him, but I know it’s him immediately.
The back gate sticks. Opening it from the outside is damn near impossible. Frank and I have talked about repairing it, but it’s been like that since we were teenagers, and I was sneaking over to visit Jess past curfew only to get caught by the gate.
You can’t open it without a struggle. Unless you’re familiar with the Davis house.
Luckily for him, Will grew up here.
The first thing I notice, before I’ve even registered who I’m looking at, is that he’s thin. Unnaturally for his size. And the baggy jeans and oversized t-shirt aren’t helping. His hair is long and unkempt. He needs to shave.
We haven’t seen him in over a year, and his father goes still beside me while I hear Joyce gasp from the porch.
