Page 53 of Insidious

“Chloe,” I say quietly.

“Yes,” Lily says simply. “She made herself approachable, and he slipped into old habits. The Chloe who betrayed him probably feels distant. Isaac may feel like she is the friend he once had. It is a slippery slope, that.”

Silence stretches between us as I try to objectively chew on that.

“He asked me about therapy,” she suddenly says.

I look at her sharply. “When?”

“A couple of days ago,” she says. “He didn’t want to go through the NHS route because of the waiting times. I told him to check through his employer. He’s got private insurance, hasn’t he? It’ll be quicker.”

I blink.

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“No,” she says. “Because you two are currently … not talking properly.”

Fair.

She sits back slightly.

“Listen,” she says, softer now. “None of this means you have to forgive him. What he did crossed a boundary. A massive one. And you’re allowed to be angry and betrayed about that.”

“Thank you very much,” I gripe.

“But,” she continues, holding my gaze, “you both have to be adults about this because there is a child in the middle of it now. And whether you stay together or not, that doesn’t change.”

I look down at my hands, at the faint marks where I had dug my nails into my palms while he was tearing me apart inside.

“What are you saying?” I ask finally.

“I’m saying,” Lily replies, softer now, “that this didn’t come out of nowhere. It doesn’t make it okay. But it makes it understandable. And if you want to move forward, whatever that looks like, you need to decide whether you’re willing to understand it. I have given you a lot to think about. Let’s leave that for a bit,” she said. “There is someone who wants to see you. Isaac said he is coming this evening.”

“Who?” I ask. But she refuses to budge. She says it’s a surprise.

***

“Luna …”

I blink.

And there he is.

Colin. He’s in jeans and a jacket, hair still doing that thing where it looks like he’s run his hands through it too many times, but he’s older now. There are lines around his eyes that weren’t there before.

He looks … like he is not sure if he should come in.

“Hey,” he says softly.

For a second, I just stare at him. And then something in my chest feels like it is cracking wide. Isaac watches silently from the doorway, his eyes on me like a tender caress.

“You came.”

“’Course I did.” He tries to grin, but it is a sad one. “Had to come meet my goddaughter, didn’t I?”

His eyes flick to the crib, and he steps closer, peering in.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs. “She’s tiny.”