Chapter 1
I never imagined my husband would abandon me and our newborn son for a tropical vacation with his mistress.
But five days after disappearing, Daniel came home sunburned, smiling, and carrying designer shopping bags.
Then he looked into the nursery.
And when he saw the empty crib, one question erased the smile from his face forever.
“Where’s Noah?”
By then, the damage he had caused was already beyond repair.
Ironically, the first time Daniel truly destroyed my life, he did it while sipping cocktails beneath a Caribbean sunset.
While he posted pictures from beach bars and luxury resorts, our three-day-old son was fighting for his life.
I still remember the sound of the rain hammering against the windows of our house outside Boston.
I was sitting on the nursery floor with Noah wrapped against my chest in the pale blue blanket my mother had bought before she died.
His tiny body was trembling.
At first, I told myself newborns were fragile and strange and that maybe I was panicking because I hadn’t slept more than forty minutes at a time since we came home from the hospital.
Then I touched my lips to his forehead.
He was burning.
“Noah?”
His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t really wake.
I slipped two fingers beneath his chin because I had suddenly become terrified that I couldn’t hear him breathing.
There was a breath.
Then another.
But they came too quickly.
Shallow little gasps that sounded nothing like the soft noises he had made the night before.
“Please, sweetheart,” I whispered.
My voice was already breaking.
“Stay with Mommy.”
I tried standing and nearly collapsed.
I had given birth less than seventy-two hours earlier, and everything below my waist felt swollen, stitched, bruised, and barely attached to the rest of me.
The doctors had told me to rest.
Daniel had promised he would take care of everything.
That promise had lasted approximately twenty-four hours.
The morning after we brought Noah home, Daniel appeared in our bedroom wearing khakis and a linen shirt instead of sweatpants.
I had been nursing Noah when I looked up.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Miami.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“It’s the Morgan development.”
His voice had that impatient tone he used whenever he wanted to make my questions sound unreasonable.
“Celeste says the investors are threatening to walk.”
“Celeste says?”
He sighed.
“Grace, please.”
I looked down at the baby in my arms.
“Daniel, I gave birth two days ago.”
“I know.”
“Your son came home from the hospital yesterday.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why are you packing?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Because there are millions of dollars involved.”
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny, but because I had heard that sentence in different forms for years.
The client matters.
The closing matters.
The investor matters.
The deal matters.
Everything mattered whenever Daniel wanted something.
I was simply expected to understand.
“How long?”
“Three days.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“No?”
“I need you here.”
“You have everything you need.”
“I can barely walk.”
“You’re walking right now.”
I remember staring at him.
Sometimes cruelty arrives screaming.
Daniel’s usually arrived calmly enough to make me question whether I had heard it correctly.
He noticed my face and softened his voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
I tightened my arms around Noah.
“Tell Celeste you can’t go.”
Something moved behind Daniel’s eyes.
Not guilt exactly.
Annoyance.
“You know what your problem is?”
I said nothing.
“You think motherhood means the entire world is supposed to stop because you had a baby.”
I felt as if he had slapped me.
“Our baby.”
“Obviously.”
“Then stay.”
His jaw flexed.
For a few seconds, I thought he might.
Instead, he reached for his suitcase.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
He kissed the top of Noah’s head.
Then he kissed my cheek.
I turned my face away.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Pretend this is normal.”
He stared at me for a moment.
Then he walked out.
I heard his suitcase rolling across the hardwood floor.
I heard the front door close.
And I heard myself whisper, “Please come back.”
He didn’t.
By the time Noah developed the fever two days later, Daniel had already stopped answering most of my messages.
I called him anyway.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten times.
I paced the nursery with Noah against my shoulder until every step sent a hot blade of pain through my abdomen.
May you like
“Come on, Daniel.”
The eleventh call rang.
