Chapter 14
Lucia asked why Dominic was angry.
I answered simply.
“He made choices that hurt Mommy.”
She thought about that.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
Children prefer clear answers.
Adults hide behind nuance when shame enters.
She accepted mine and returned to her crayons.
Then she asked:
“Are you my daddy?”
There it was.
No room full of witnesses.
No dramatic reveal.
Just a child at a café table.
I crouched beside her.
“Yes.”
She studied my face.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Mommy knew.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic knew.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“That’s bad.”
“Yes.”
She thought about it.
Then touched beneath her own eyes.
Same gesture from the day before.
“You have my eyes.”
I smiled.
“You noticed first.”
She nodded proudly.
Then she did something I was not prepared for.
She climbed into my lap.
No permission.
No ceremony.
I held very still.
Isabella watched from across the table.
Her eyes filled.
I looked at her.
Three years.
We could not get them back.
That truth needed to stay.
Anything else would turn reunion into fantasy.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She shook her head.
“For what?”
“For believing him without coming after you myself.”
Her expression changed.
“He made it convincing.”
“I still stopped.”
Silence.
Then she nodded.
Not absolution.
Recognition.
“I stopped too.”
We sat with that.
Two people manipulated by someone they trusted.
Two people who also made choices inside that manipulation.
If we were going to rebuild anything, it had to survive that truth.
Lucia rested her head against my chest.
Then looked up.
“Do I live with you now?”
Isabella and I both froze.
I looked at her mother.
She looked at me.
No one answered quickly.
Good.
Finally Isabella said:
“We’ll figure that out.”
Lucia frowned.
“Tomorrow?”
I laughed softly.
“Probably more than one tomorrow.”
She accepted that.
Then asked for cake.
Much easier.
I bought her the biggest slice in the café.
May you like
Teresa warned me not to become ridiculous.
Too late.
