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“I know. I searched for you and left corny phrases with my lipstick on bathroom mirrors, hoping you’d see them.”
“You did?”
“Why do you look so surprised? Of course I did. I said, ‘You’re my best friend ever, call me.’ ‘I’m sorry you lost your baby, no one deserves that. I’m here for you.’ ‘Please don’t leave. You’re my ride or die.’ You ghosted me anyway.”
My lips part and those stupid emotions are now banging on the surface of my heart. I clear my throat. “I didn’t see them. I left the state.”
“I figured you did.” She lifts a shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Your baby being stillborn. I know you wanted the child, even though you were a kid yourself.”
“She wasn’t stillborn.”
“W-what?”
“They lied—the hooker and the alcoholic, as you called them. They shoved a stillborn in my arms and made me think it was my daughter while they sent my real daughter to her dad.”
“Oh my God, they found him?”
I nod.
“Even though we searched for him for weeks and couldn’t?”
“Yeah. They could’ve gotten outside help. I thought it was yours.”
“Of course not. I’d rather drown in shit than snitch to that hooker.”
I frown. I was sure it was Caroline who hid Kingsley’s identity from me yet told my aunt and uncle. But if it wasn’t her, then who?
“Does that mean you found your daughter now?” she asks hopefully, scooting closer.
“I did. She still doesn’t consider me a mother, though.”
“Oh, she will once she gets an earful from Auntie Caroline.”
“No, Callie. We’re fragile as it is. Don’t meddle.”
“You’re fragile because you’re being stupidly careful as usual.” She grins.
“Careful is intelligence, not stupidity. And stop smiling like an idiot.”
“What? You called me Callie again.”
“Whatever,” I say with nonchalance, but I can’t resist the smile.
Caroline smiles, too, and we keep talking for an hour, then grab lunch together before we finally part ways because I have to meet a client.
She texts me immediately when she gets home as I asked her to. She even sends me a picture of her giant huskies and proof that she activated the alarm.
Caroline continues to text me throughout the day until nighttime when I get home. Her updates include a burned lasagna, a millionth rewatch ofFriends, and bad dad jokes.
She makes me smile anyway and feel lighthearted at how fate has thrown her in my path again.
When I reach my building, I step out of my Range Rover and pause. I swear I just saw a shadow in my peripheral vision.
Pulling out my phone, I dial 911 and head to the elevator with my finger hovering over the call button.
