“Does Dad sing it with you?”
Ben laughed. “No. He won’t. No matter how many times I ask him.”
When I finally got all the frosting off, I set the washcloth over the side of his sink. “You’re all clean.”
“Just like my teeth.” He smiled. “Seee?”
“Iseee.” I laughed.
“Now, story time.” He led me to the bookcase in his room, a built-in display of floor-to-ceiling shelves with a dinosaur mural painted on both sides, and he flopped down in front of it, pulling the first book based on its spine. “I want this one.” He handed me a book on dinosaurs. “This one.” The second was about birds. “This oneannndthis one.” The next two were about otters.
“Four?”
“Yep! We have a lot of reading to do, Emily.”
I laughed as I followed him to bed, carrying the pile of books.
Before he climbed in, he kissed his hand and reached toward something on his nightstand. “Good night, Mom.”
As he got under the covers and made room for me, I looked at his nightstand, trying to see what he’d air-kissed. There were several things on there. A dinosaur lamp. A bottle of water. Several books and multiple framed photos.
I placed the books on the side of the bed and sat next to them. “Is one of those pictures of your mom?”
“Yep! That one!” He pointed at the frame in the back. “I say good night to her every night.”
There weren’t any photos of Sarah downstairs, and although I’d been in Ben’s room before, I never noticed his nightstand or the framed pictures on top of it.
“Do you mind if I look at her?”
He repositioned himself next to me, kneeling on the bed. “Nope! I’ll help.” He almost knocked over the water bottle and he dinged the lamp as he grasped the large, chunky metal frame, lifting it toward the bed and handing it to me.
The frame was cut into two separate sections. The top was a photo of a dark-haired woman, standing by a window. She was looking through it, so only her profile showed, but she appeared to be stunning. She was wearing a long, sheer dressing gown that was open in the center, her hands clasping her beautiful round belly.
But my attention didn’t stay on her—it moved to the bottom section of the frame, where an off-white piece of paper was pressed behind the glass with words written in blue ink. As I began to read those words, my heart started to pound.
My mouth went completely dry.
My hands shook so badly, I dropped the frame on the carpet.
No.
It couldn’t be.
It was impossible.
There was ... no fucking way.
“Ben?” There was a churning in my stomach that was getting worse by the second. “What was your mom’s last name? It wasn’t Worthington ... right?”
“No, it was Luc—”
“Lucas,” I finished for him.
My hand went to my chest, air no longer moving through it.
The room was spinning.
I was dizzy.
