Chapter 3 - THE QUESTION
“Get in the car, Mia.”
My daughter looked from me to Daniel.
“Mom?”
“Please.”
She knew that tone.
She climbed into the Honda without another question.
I shut the door.
Daniel stood behind me.
“How old?”
I turned.
“You don’t get to ask me anything.”
“If she’s—”
“Don’t.”
“Elena.”
I stepped closer to him.
“Do you know what it was like?”
He said nothing.
“I found out I was pregnant six weeks after those papers arrived.”
His mouth opened.
“I called you.”
“Elena—”
“I called your office. Your apartment. Your mother’s house.”
“I never got those calls.”
“I wrote letters.”
“I never saw them.”
“I mailed you an ultrasound picture.”
His eyes closed.
For the first time, Daniel Vale looked broken.
Not shocked.
Broken.
“You were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the car.
Mia was pretending to read her workbook.
She was watching us through the window.
Daniel swallowed.
“Is she mine?”
I hated the question.
Not because it was unfair.
Because I had spent ten years knowing exactly who her father was while believing her father had chosen not to care.
“Yes.”
Daniel staggered back half a step.
I had never seen him lose control of his body before.
Not once.
“Her name?”
“You heard it.”
“Mia.”
“Yes.”
He said it again.
“Mia.”
Like he was trying to understand how a name could contain an entire decade.
“I have a daughter.”
“You have a biological daughter.”
He looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means don’t walk into her life because you’re shocked today and disappear again when this gets complicated tomorrow.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know it.”
“You knew you loved me once too.”
That shut him up.
Rosa rolled down the window.
“Elena?”
“I’m coming.”
Daniel reached inside his jacket.
I tensed.
He pulled out a business card.
His hand shook.
“Please.”
I didn’t take it.
“I know you know how to reach me,” I said.
His face tightened.
“I deserved that.”
“You deserve a lot worse.”
I got into the car.
As Rosa pulled away, Mia twisted around in her seat.
“Who was that?”
I watched Daniel disappear behind us.
“Someone I knew a long time ago.”
“Why did he look like he was going to cry?”
I looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Mia was quiet for three blocks.
Then she asked the question I had feared since she was old enough to understand other kids had fathers.
“Was that him?”
My head snapped toward her.
She touched her own eyes.
“We look alike.”
Rosa stared straight ahead.
Smart woman.
I whispered, “We’ll talk at home.”
That night, Mia sat at the kitchen table while I made grilled cheese neither of us ate.
“So he didn’t die?”
“No.”
“You told me you didn’t know where he was.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did he leave us?”
I gripped the counter.
“I thought he did.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Three hard knocks.
I looked through the peephole.
Daniel stood outside.
Alone.
Holding a yellowed envelope.
I opened the door three inches.
“What are you doing here?”
“I went to my mother’s house.”
“And?”
“I found this in her safe.”
He held the envelope up.
My handwriting was on the front.
Daniel Vale.
His old office address.
RETURN TO SENDER was stamped across it.
My heart stopped.
Daniel opened the envelope.
Inside was the ultrasound picture I had mailed ten years ago.
On the back, in my handwriting, were six words.
Your daughter already has your stubborn chin.
Daniel looked at me.
Then he pulled out something else.
A copy of the divorce petition.
He pointed to the bottom.
“That’s supposed to be my signature.”
I stared at it.
“And?”
May you like
His eyes turned hard.
“It isn’t.”
