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The little library is the one in Leo’s bedroom. It’s in the front of his house, overlooking the driveway. The bedroom door is open when I get there. One of the housekeeping staff is making the bed.
“Hi, Daphne,” she says.
“Hi, Lauren. I’ll be out in a second.”
She waves this off, and I go through. There’s a sitting area on one side, and another chair closer to the shelves. Ah. There’s the blue notebook.
My fingers catch the book beneath it when I pick it up. I hold onto Haley’s notebook, but the book falls onto the rug. A small piece of paper shoots out of it.
It’s Leo’s book. One of his favorites. It’s a very long story about building a cathedral in the twelfth century, and it has a sad opening. Leo reads it when he’s stressed out. He’s been reading it again, clearly. My throat tightens with guilt. I tuck it under my arm with Haley’s notebook and hunt down the paper that fell out.
It’s not just paper.
It’s a photo.
A printout from an ultrasound machine.
It’s early. So early that the baby is basically a dot, floating in a little black pool.
MORELLI, HALEY is printed at the top, along with the approximate age of the fetus and the date the ultrasound was taken, which was—
Which was while I was missing.
I slide it back into the book and put it back on the table.
How am I supposed to argue with him now that I’ve seen the press conference and now that Haley’s pregnant? No wonder he’s out of his mind. They found out about this and I disappeared. It’s all tangled up together now.
On the way downstairs, I make a silent vow not to say anything.
My heart aches for Leo. He has too much to worry about. And at the same time, more emotions come in waves that I can’t paint out. I can’t have a shared secret with Emerson. I can’t even talk to him.
I give Haley her notebook, which she accepts with a grateful, whispered thank you. I spend an hour across from her pretending to sketch. And then I retreat to the studio. My headache is getting worse. Much worse.
In the studio, I stand at the window until my legs get tired. All the emotions gather in my fingertips. In my muscles. I need to paint. I need Emerson.
I know how pathetic it must be, to need someone like this. At least, at a minimum, I need to know where he is. And Haley’s pregnant.
And nobody else in the family knows, because someone would have mentioned it.
My heart is going to give out.
I need both things—my family and Emerson. I need them all. I thought that when I was older, I wouldn’t need anyone, but I do.
The door opens as the sun dips toward the horizon. My body’s stiff. I’ve been sitting a long time.
“Daphne?”
“Hi.”
It’s Leo.
He takes me in while I stand up on unsteady legs. I feel dehydrated. Dried out. I see the moment Leo comes to that conclusion, too. Worry furrows his forehead.
“I thought you’d paint today, Daph.”
I shake my head.
“You didn’t even open the bottles.”
