After they left, Margo stood in her quiet kitchen, loading cups into the dishwasher. Such a normal task while her world had shifted completely.
She picked up her phone, scrolled to Sam’s last message from three weeks ago: In Lisbon. New series going well. Hope you’re good.
How did you tell your wandering daughter that she was a grandmother again? That her son had hidden a child for years? That she might miss knowing this girl entirely if she didn’t come home?
Instead, Margo decided it wasn’t her story to tell and put her phone down. It was all she could manage.
She pulled out the photo albums then, found Tyler’s teenage years. There he was at sixteen, Stella’s age. All angles and attitude, camera already his constant companion. He’d been a good kid. Quiet, watchful,kind. How had that boy grown into a man who could keep such a secret?
And Sam—she flipped to earlier pages. Sam at thirty, Tyler a toddler on her hip, both of them laughing at something off-camera. Before the restlessness took her. Before art became more important than anything else.
“You’re going to be a grandmother,” Margo told the photo. “And you don’t even know it.”
Tomorrow, she’d see them again. Tomorrow, maybe Tyler would explain. Tomorrow, she’d try to find a way to connect with a teenage girl who shared their eyes, their stubbornness, their blood.
But tonight, Margo sat with her photos and her questions, wondering how a family could be so connected and so scattered at the same time. Wondering if Stella liked grilled cheese. Wondering if Sam would come home in time to find out.
CHAPTER SIX
Meg couldn’t sleep.
She’d tried—had even made herself chamomile tea and deliberately not organized anything—but her mind kept circling the impossibility of their current situation. Tyler folded like origami on the couch. A teenage girl who shared their eyes sleeping in the spare room. The careful life Meg had constructed in Tyler’s space suddenly upended by a secret sixteen years in the making.
Five-thirty AM. Early even for her.
She padded to the kitchen, moving quietly past Tyler’s sleeping form. He’d managed to find a diagonal position that kept most of his body on the loveseat, though one foot dangled off the edge. His face, slack in sleep, looked younger. Vulnerable.
Coffee. Coffee would help.
As the machine gurgled to life, her phone lit up with an incoming video call. Anna. Of course—she’d alwaysbeen an early riser, probably already back from her morning run.
Meg grabbed the phone and her coffee, slipping out onto the small back deck to avoid waking anyone.
“Finally!” Anna’s face filled the screen, a glass of wine visible on her kitchen table, the Italian evening light soft behind her. “I’ve been dying since last night. Tell me everything.”
“Shh,” Meg warned, though she couldn’t help smiling at her sister’s eagerness. “Everyone’s still asleep.”
“Everyone being Tyler and his secret daughter?” Anna’s eyes were huge. “Meg, what the heck? How does Tyler have a teenage daughter we knew nothing about?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with details.”
“What’s her name? What’s she like? Does she look like him?”
“Stella. Yes, exactly like him. And she’s...” Meg searched for words. “Angry. Defensive. Told Tyler he’s not the boss of her through a closed door last night.”
“I love her already.” Anna grinned. “But seriously, Meg. Sixteen years? How does that even happen?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Meg glanced through the sliding door. Tyler hadn’t moved. “He’s been going to Australia twice a year, sometimes more. This last time he was gone over a month.”
“We all thought it was just for work.” Anna’s expression shifted. “God, can you imagine? All those times weteased him about committing to anything besides his camera...”
“He had a daughter the whole time.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” Meg took a sip of coffee, needing the warmth. “He looks terrified, Anna. I’ve never seen Tyler actually scared before.”
“Scared of a teenager?”
