The drive to Connecticut took nearly two hours.
Dominic sat in the back of the SUV beside Lily.
At first, neither of them spoke.
Lily fell asleep twenty minutes outside New York with her head resting against Rosa.
Dominic watched her.
Four years.
He kept returning to the number.
Four birthdays.
Four Christmas mornings.
Four summers.
He had missed all of them.
Rosa lived in a small house outside Fairfield.
It was modest but warm, decorated with handmade Christmas ornaments and colored lights around the front porch.
Dominic followed her inside.
Photographs covered the walls.
Lily as a newborn.
Lily taking her first steps.
Lily holding a birthday cake.
Sophia appeared in only a few photographs.
Pregnant.
Smiling.
Tired.
Alive.
Dominic stopped in front of one picture.
Sophia sat on the porch, one hand resting over her swollen stomach.
“She was seven months there,” Rosa said.
Dominic did not turn.
“Was she happy?”
Rosa thought carefully.
“She tried to be.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Dominic nodded once.
Rosa disappeared into a bedroom.
She returned carrying a wooden box.
“She left this.”
Dominic stared at it.
“What is it?”
“Things for Lily.”
Rosa placed it on the table.
“And something for you.”
His eyes lifted.
Rosa opened the box.
Inside were hospital bracelets.
A tiny pink hat.
Several photographs.
And an envelope.
DOMINIC was written across the front in Sophia’s handwriting.
His chest tightened.
Rosa handed it to him.
He did not open it immediately.
“I thought your mother gave it to you.”
Dominic looked up.
“You gave this to Lucia?”
“Three days after Sophia died.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Apparently Lucia had returned the envelope months later.
Unopened.
She had told Rosa Dominic refused it.
Another lie.
Dominic carried the envelope outside.
Snow had begun falling again.
He stood alone beneath the porch light and opened the letter.
Sophia’s handwriting covered four pages.
She told him she had not left because she stopped loving him.
She wrote that Lucia had convinced her danger followed Dominic everywhere.
Sophia had believed leaving temporarily might protect their child.
Then pride and fear trapped her.
She planned to return after Lily’s birth.
She apologized.
She told Dominic the baby kicked whenever she played jazz music.
She said she thought Lily might have his stubbornness.
At the bottom of the final page, Sophia had written:
If anything happens to me, please find her.
Love her enough for both of us.
Dominic read the sentence three times.
Then folded the letter carefully.
Behind him, the door opened.
Lily stepped outside.
She wore slippers and her oversized coat.
“You’re crying.”
Dominic wiped his face.
“I’m okay.”
“My mommy cried sometimes.”
He looked at her.
“She did?”
Lily nodded.
“Aunt Rosa said Mommy missed somebody.”
Dominic crouched.
“That somebody was me.”
Lily studied him.
Then she looked at the torn photograph in her hand.
Slowly, she held it beside his face.
Her eyes widened.
“You’re him.”
Dominic’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“You’re my daddy?”
He nodded.
Lily stared at him.
Dominic prepared himself for fear.
Anger.
Confusion.
Instead she asked, “Why didn’t you come?”
There was no good answer.
“Because I didn’t know where you were.”
“Mommy didn’t tell you?”
“She tried.”
Lily absorbed that.
Then she asked the question Dominic feared most.
“Do you want me?”
He immediately lowered himself to both knees.
“Yes.”
Lily looked uncertain.
“You didn’t know me yesterday.”
“No.”
“And now you do.”
“Yes.”
“Is that enough?”
Dominic smiled sadly.
“It has to be.”
Lily took one small step closer.
Then another.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Dominic froze.
No one hugged him unexpectedly.
No one touched him without permission.
Then his arms slowly closed around her.
She was warm.
Small.
Real.
Dominic lowered his face against her hair.
For the first time since Sophia disappeared, grief and love existed in the same place.
Inside the house, Rosa watched through the glass.
So did Enzo.
Neither spoke.
The next morning, Dominic called Isabella.
She answered after two rings.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She was silent.
“You don’t owe me an apology for having a daughter.”
“I owe you one for tonight.”
“Probably.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Then Isabella asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Bring Lily home.”
“To the mansion?”
“Yes.”
“And our engagement?”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Isabella was quiet for several seconds.
Then she said, “Good.”
Dominic frowned.
“Good?”
“You shouldn’t know yet.”
“I thought you’d be angry.”
“I am.”
Her voice softened.
“But that child has spent four years without her father. Figure that out first.”
Dominic stared through the window at Lily building something in the snow with Rosa.
“You’re better than I deserve.”
“Probably.”
This time he did laugh.
By noon, Dominic had made his decision.
Rosa would come to Long Island temporarily.
Lily would have her own room.
She would remain close to the only mother figure she had ever known.
Dominic would not rip one world away simply because another had been stolen from him.
Before leaving, he visited Sophia’s grave.
It sat beneath a maple tree in a small cemetery.
The marker was simple.
SOPHIA ELAINE CARTER.
BELOVED MOTHER.
Dominic stood there while snow settled on his shoulders.
“I’m sorry.”
The words sounded inadequate.
“I should’ve found you.”
Wind moved through the trees.
“I should’ve known.”
He placed the letter against his chest.
“I have her now.”
His voice broke.
“I’ll take care of her.”
A small hand slipped into his.
Lily had followed him.
Dominic looked down.
She placed her teddy bear beside Sophia’s headstone.
“You can borrow Teddy tonight,” she whispered.
Dominic could not speak.
He squeezed her hand.
And for the first time in four years, he stopped asking why Sophia left.
He finally understood that she had spent her last days trying to find her way back.