Now it holds Mateo’s wedding ring.
The chain is gold, just like the ring. The pendant is an open rhombus shape with a small diamond set into the bottom. His ring hasn’t left it since Gino handed it to me after they broke into Mateo’s hotel room and recovered his things.
I walk over to the bed and sit down, holding the necklace and staring at it for a moment. “I just hope your daddy comes home soon,” I whisper, looking down at Victoria and Julian.
I pick them both up again and head back downstairs. After setting them in the playpen, I sink onto the couch and turn on the TV. Some reality show plays in the background, but I barely see it. My eyes start to burn, just like they do every morning. The emotions hit all at once—sadness, anger, fear. I know it’s amix of postpartum depression and the constant anxiety of not knowing where Mateo is.
Before I realize it, it’s almost ten, and Juliet still hasn’t shown up. She’s always here before nine.
I head back into the kitchen to make more bottles for the twins. In the mornings I prefer to bottle-feed them and breastfeed later in the day. After warming the bottles, I carry them into the living room and set them on the coffee table. I lay each baby on the couch, sit between them, and start feeding them.
That’s when I hear the front door open and close.
Footsteps move down the hall, but I’m so focused on the babies that I don’t turn to see who it is.
“Hey, Juliet,” I call out. “You’re late,” I add jokingly.
Nothing.
No response.
Weird.
“Okay, I was kidding,” I say. Still nothing.
The hairs on the back of my neck stick up. I can feel someone behind me.
“Juliet, I was joking. I heard you come in,” I say, not daring to turn around.
Silence.
My chest tightens. I’m starting to panic.
I glance up and catch a reflection in the TV screen.
Someone tall.
Oh God.
Someone is in my house.
My mind races. Who breaks into a house at ten in the morning? Who would come here?
I go completely still, fear locking my body in place. My only thought is the twins. I have to protect them—no matter what.
I feel whoever it is step closer, until they’re right behind thecouch. Then hands settle on my shoulders, heavy and solid, sending a jolt of terror through me.
I feel warm breath brush my right ear. I try to pull away, but fear has me frozen.
“Sweetheart, don’t pull away.”
That voice.
I haven’t heard it in so long, but I know it instantly. Soft, rough, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.
My body tries to move, but my mind tells me it has to be a hallucination.
“Baby.”
