Chapter 3

I sat Leo down on his little bed, his favorite stuffed dinosaur clutched in his arms.

His bright, innocent eyes looked up at me, full of trust.

"Leo, honey," I began, my voice softer than I felt, "Mommy is going to... try to be happy again."

He tilted his head, "Are you sad about Daddy?"

My heart ached. "Daddy will always be in our hearts, sweetie. But Mommy... Mommy needs a friend. And maybe, you do too."

I told him about Captain Miller, a firefighter, like his... like Mark was. A kind man.

"Would it be okay if he came over for dinner sometime? If he played cars with you?"

Leo's face lit up. "A real firefighter? Can he show me his truck?"

"Maybe one day, sweetie."

He threw his arms around my neck. "Okay, Mommy. If he makes you smile, I like him."

Tears welled in my eyes, tears of relief, of love for this amazing little boy.

He was my rock, my reason.

My parents were overjoyed when I told them I was ready to meet Jim Miller.

"Oh, Olivia! Finally!" my mom cried, hugging me tight. "He's a good man, a widower himself, he understands loss. He's asked about you, you know. He thinks you're so strong."

Strong. If only they knew the full story, the source of this sudden shift.

It wasn't strength born of acceptance, but of fury and a desperate need to reclaim my life.

A few days later, the Hendersons invited me and Leo for Sunday dinner.

The thought of facing them, of facing Mark as "David," made my stomach clench.

But I had to. For Leo. And for myself. I needed to see them, knowing what I knew.

We sat around their familiar dining table, the scent of roast chicken filling the air.

Sarah, David's widow, now "Mark's" wife, was there, her belly round with her second child by Mark.

She looked tired, her eyes holding a shadow I hadn't noticed before.

Mark, as "Uncle David," was playing the doting husband to Sarah, the kind uncle to Leo.

He ruffled Leo's hair, "Hey, sport, want to see the new train set I got for your cousin?"

He was so good at it, this act. So convincing.

The casual affection, the easy smiles, it was all a performance.

My insides twisted with a bitter irony. He was a father to Sarah's children, but a ghost to his own.

Leo, usually so eager for "Uncle David's" attention, pulled away slightly.

He looked at Mark, then at me, a flicker of something knowing in his eyes.

When Mark offered him a piece of pie, Leo said, clearly, "No, thank you, Uncle David. Mommy makes the best pie."

Mark froze, his smile faltering for a split second.

Uncle David.

Leo had never been so formal, so distant.

The air grew thick. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson exchanged uneasy glances. Sarah looked down at her plate.

Mark recovered quickly, a strained laugh. "Okay, champ. More for me then."

But his eyes, when they met mine, were troubled.

He knew something had changed.