I’m sorry, little one. So terribly much.

Kathleen was wrong all along.

It isn’t a boy.

It’s a girl, and she looks just like both of us.

All I can think when I look at her is not all the things I gained, or all the things I lost in the past year.

But how all of them are connected to Rory.

How she ruined everything.

And how badly I want to ruin her.

Chapter 19

Present

Rory

“May I help you?” the little girl asks from the doorway, her voice honey sweet and soft. She has the most glorious hair. Deep brown, but not quite as dark as her father’s.

Her. Father’s.

See also: My husband.

See also: The man who hid the truth about his daughter from me.

That was one of the first things I asked him when we met in New York again, when he threw his marriage to Kathleen in my face.

“Children?”

“No.”

He didn’t even hesitate. The answer was flat, like the void behind his pretty eyes. But there’s no way this kid is anyone else’s. She is a perfect blend of Kathleen and Mal. Suddenly, I’m hit with the awful, complicated truth. He kept this secret from me, even after he married me. His true family was something he never planned to share. He didn’t trust me enough to tell me he was a father. He thought I’d leave him if I found out, if he ever did care enough about us to want me to stay.

I wouldn’t leave a single father. But I sure as hell would dump a compulsive, dirty liar.

All the times he disappeared. The birthday party. The glitter. The tiny, fake diamond earring tucked between grass blades in the backyard. The rush to head back to Tolka when we were in Greece. All because of his baby girl.

A mixture of anger, frustration, and overwhelming protectiveness toward this kid, who never knew her mother, swirls in my stomach. And guilt. So much guilt, for a reason I cannot pinpoint right now.

I offer her a little wave.

Say something. Anything. You are probably freaking her out.

“Um, hi?”

Not that, you idiot.

“You look like a princess.” She giggles, covering her little mouth.

How old is she? I’m guessing seven at most. Maybe six. Jesus, this cuts it close to the entire napkin ordeal. Is it possible she was conceived that soon after I left?

“That’s because I am.” I plant my fists on my waist.

“You are?” Her eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

“Well, kind of. My name is Aurora Belle. I came here because I heard there’s another princess living in this village—a prettier one I must meet. Guess I found her.” A lopsided grin appears on my face.