She was right.
Every dinner, every holiday, every time Daniel had put his arm around her at Chloe’s grave and called her “our girl” — she had been sitting across from the man who had destroyed her life and smiling because she had no other choice.
I had adopted her to honor Chloe.
And without knowing it, I had placed her back inside the same house as the man she was most afraid of.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She looked up.
“I didn’t know.
But I should have — I should have asked more.
I should have seen—”
“You couldn’t have known,” Ava said.
“He’s very good at being believed.”
Daniel came home at 6:04.
He brought takeout — Thai food, my usual order.
He set it on the table and talked about a problem at work, something about a supplier and a delayed shipment.
I listened and responded and passed him the soy sauce.
Ava ate quietly.
She asked him one question about his day.
He answered it.
She nodded.
I watched his hands the entire meal.
They were steady.
