Page 127 of The Dearly Departed

Her smile was shy as she said, “Me. I care very much about what you think.”

“Well, I care what you think,” I countered. “Do you like it?”

She laughed and shook her head before looking up at me with a somber smile on her lips. "No. It's not what I would've picked. But my mom thought it looked nice, so that's what I'm wearing."

Then I don’t like it either, I thought as I tipped my head and said, "Why would you wear something just because she liked it?"

Analise shrugged helplessly, then replied, "Because this day is for her."

"I thought this whole thing was for Gerald," I said, confusion pinching my brows.

She deflated with a sigh. "It is, but it's just as much for my mother. She needs me to have a baby.”

The thought of Analise being pregnant with Benjamin’s baby unleashed something cruel and primitive in my core, and I had to close my eyes and clench my fists to keep from breaking this entire gazebo apart.

I wasn’t sure I’d be a good father. In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be. But somehow, I found it in me to believe that it was my baby that should be in her belly, not his.

“She's constantly reminding me about how she's not getting any younger and neither am I,” she went on, “and someone needs to inherit all of her family's wealth, and blah, blah, blah."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I feel like a whiny brat if I say that it's unfair, but …"

"No, it is," I agreed, tamping down my selfish fury. "It is unfair … not to mention disgusting and horribly illegal."

Her rosy lips curved into a sorrowful smile as she looked up toward my mask. "You say that like any of them strive to be law-abiding citizens."

She was joking, trying to make light of the situation, but it fell flat, and her smile fell with it.

Her lips opened, as if she wanted to say something, but her breath caught in her throat, and she looked away toward the smattering of boats floating along the surface of crystalline water. Her gaze softened with faraway melancholy, and with a silent dare, I lifted my hand to brush the back of my knuckles against her cheek. Analise's eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she leaned into my touch before her attention was returned to the harbor.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, my voice low and whispered.

"No, I was just …" She licked her lips as her hesitation held on tight.

There was something on her mind, something she didn’t want to say.

"What is it?" I coaxed gently, brushing my gloved fingertips against her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Wishing I could touch her, skin on skin. Wishing I could know what she felt like beneath my fingertips.

She pulled in a deep breath, giving her head a quick shake. "It's stupid. It's …" Then she let the water re-captivate her as she fell once again into the recesses of her memory. "When I was a little girl, I was in the foster system. I told you about that. There was this one house I was placed in, and the man there was …" Her voice trembled as her eyes flooded with tears. "God, he was awful. There were a bunch of us in there—kids, I mean—but he would do … horrible things to me."

I swallowed and barely moved my head in a nod. "I dealt with quite a few of those," I admitted.

A tear escaped from between her lashes, and with my thumb, I caught it, not allowing it to fall.

"But you know what's funny?" she asked, watching the boats skate along the water. "Even though those were some of the worst memories of my life, being in that house had some of the best memories too. Because I made a friend—this boy—and he would sometimes walk me down to the water, and we'd watch the boats take off from the dock, and we'd imagine what it would be like to be rich enough to actually have one."

She laughed, as if something was funny, but, oh God, nothing was funny at all.

Not as my vision began to blacken around the edges.

Not as a wave of lightheadedness swept over me like a wild oceanic wave, threatening to knock me over and send me spiraling through a vortex.

How did I not see it before?

I did though, didn’t I? I’ve been seeing it all this time.

But every time I started to think she could be her, I’d talk myself out of it.

I didn’t want to believe it.