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I wish she was right about everything she said. I wish she were here.

The realization hits me like a blow, so hard that I stagger. But that’s just the way it is. I really wish she were here. I wish her hand would close around mine and she would say it all again.

But she doesn’t know what I’ve done or who I’ve hurt. Who I’ve left behind. If she knew, she would never stand by me. I slip my hand into my pocket, and it closes around the small compass all by itself. I push all thoughts of Lia aside.

I can’t think about her right now. Not about us. Today isn’t about us. Not about me.

It’s about Brittany and Clark—and Isabel.

And Olivia.

The compass digs deeper into my palm. My chest rises as I take a deep breath and take the first step. Somehow, I manage to cross the street and climb the three steps to the door. My hand trembles as I raise it to work the knocker.

I wait for three, five, seven heartbeats.

Then the door opens, and Clark is standing in front of me. There’s a twinge in my chest as I stare at him for a moment, motionless. He looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time I saw him. Tall, broad shoulders. His hair is no longer as dark as it was, now almost white, but his gaze is still shrewd and penetrating. He smiles a bit distantly, slightly cautiously, a little suspicious. All justified.

“Phoenix.” He greets me, and I snap out of my trance. His voice hasn’t changed either. It’s still just as deep and resonant as it used to be. He always had an authoritative air about him. Today more than ever, but I’m afraid that’s got something to do with me.

“Hello,” I manage to say, my voice coming out as a quiet, awkward croak.

“I was wondering if you were going to stand around on the street forever.”

Ouch. His bluntness hits me hard, even though I deserve it. I’ve been hanging around outside so long that I’m actually way too late, and I should have guessed that he’d be standing at the window, watching to see if I’d show up. Isabel always did that too. It was a habit she picked up from her father.

“Yes, well . . .” I begin, then don’t know what to say.

Clark takes a step aside and ushers me in. “Come on in. It’s cold.”

I hold my breath as I step past him into the house, and I immediately notice that nothing has changed here either. It still smells exactly the same as it used to. Like lavender, lemon, apple, and freshly washed laundry.

“You still know the way to the living room, don’t you?”

I nod silently. Yes, I remember.

My gaze darts across the hallway to the pictures hanging there. Fortunately, they aren’t photographs, just minimalist line drawings in black frames. There’s a rushing sound in my ears that gets louder the closer I get to the living room. Then I see the photos I expected.

They must be more than four years old. After all, Isabel is in them. But there are also new pictures, and those are the ones that take my breath away and make the room blur before my eyes.

My hands are shaking, I feel like I’m going to throw up, and my heart is beating too fast. The same radiant smile, the same blue eyes.

“She looks like Isabel, doesn’t she?” Clark’s voice softens, and the gentle undertone makes my shoulders tense.

I nod. “Is she—”

“No, she’s not here. We thought it would be best to meet you alone first, before you see her.”

I nod again automatically. Of course they thought it was best. I can understand that. They know her. They know what’s best for her. They knew from the beginning.

That’s why I left Olivia with them, because I would never have been able to be the best thing for my daughter.

Chapter 34

Phoenix

“Olivia is out with her nanny.” The familiar voice makes me turn around.

Brittany is standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders hunched. She’s obviously uncomfortable with the situation. Still, I can’t help but notice that she’s hardly changed either. Her face is friendly and round with bright-blue eyes, exactly the same as her daughter’s and granddaughter’s. Blond hair falls smoothly to her chin and is now streaked with a few strands of gray. She doesn’t dye it; I don’t know why I expected her to.