"No. The girls and I will come to your room at eight to pick you up. It's better if we're seen arriving together. We can have breakfast before the conference starts."
She nodded and turned to leave, but I stopped her.
"Wait. Before you go… what was that?"
"What was what?"
"The gestures. With your hands, when you spoke to Aurora."
She let out a short, incredulous breath and closed her eyes, shaking her head as if I'd just asked the most obvious question in the world.
"You really haven't figured it out? You've been with them for over a day. You found out you're their father… and you didn't notice?"
"Noticewhat?"
"Maybe you should look in their documents. There might be a clue. They're five, Logan, but you're a grown man. You're theirfather. You don't need a babysitter to explain everything. If you're so brilliant atmedical research… try researching your own daughters for a change."
With that final, cutting remark, she turned and left.
As the girls continued to jump on the bed—their tears from moments before completely forgotten—I went to their suitcase in the corner of the room. Inside, I found the folder of documents.
Birth certificates. Vaccination records. Medical reports…
I stopped at one for Aurora. The title at the top of the page made my breath catch.
HEARING TEST
The answer was right there, staring me in the face.
My eyes lifted from the document to the girls. How could I have been so blind?
Aurora hadn't uttered a single word since she arrived. Every time I'd tried to speak to her, I was met with silence. Evelyn always addressed her slowly, deliberately... and Aurora watched her face so intently.
She was watching Evelyn's lips.
How could I not have seen it? How could I, a doctor, have missed the signs?
The girl was deaf, or profoundly hard of hearing.
And for the second time in just over twenty-four hours, the crushing realization hit me: I was failing spectacularly as a father.
Chapter Eight
EVELYN
The second day of the conference was a near-repeat of the first.
I stayed with the girls while Logan attended his panels and worked the room. (A petty part of me desperately hoped he was floundering without his Spanish translator). That night, I moved into the room next to his so the girls could sleep with me.
It might have been a mistake. They were growing more attached by the hour, and that would only make the eventual separation harder. I clung to the hope that they’d bond with their father before then, but given what I’d seen of Logan Turner, I wasn't holding my breath.
On Monday, I was finally free to leave.
Though our separation was temporary—I was due to travel with him to New York on Tuesday for his hospital visit—the brief return to my own life was a relief.
Jenna, my best friend’s grandmother who had taken me in, welcomed me with a warm hug and asked if I wanted to talk about "that weekend business." I told her I wasn't ready yet. She understood, kissed my cheek, and said I could count on her for anything.
I thanked her and asked for the day off from the bookstore. I promised I’d explain everything when she got home that evening, including why I needed to resign.
