“If he turns out to be a nice guy, are you going to leave our family to be with him—your other dad?”

“Will, he’s not my other dad. He’s no one to me. Geoffrey Faust is just a name, a person who knows nothing about me. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll probably never meet him anyway.”

Maybe that was true, but maybe it wasn’t. Willow knew the allure of opening boxes to discover what’s inside. He’d want to know eventually. And when he did finally open that box, kaboom! Everything would fall apart.

Willow might have been young, but she wasn’t helpless. Ryan had protected her for all those years. Now it was time for her to protect him. Geoffrey Faust would stay far, far away. She’d make sure of it.

Chapter 20

Lily

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Never pick one of your favorite hangouts to tell your friend you’ve been cheating with her husband. Because when it’s all over, you’ll never be able to go back there. It’s like splitting up friends after a divorce—there’s always casualties.

As the sun emerged, wakening my riotous thoughts, I called Robin for a gossip session at our usual coffeehouse, and I had made my first mistake.

Something about the South Side brought me to life as I wove through the bustling sidewalks, my flip-flops slapping against the cracked concrete. The rows of two-story brick buildings with their cluttered shop windows always held an earthy, hipster charm. I would never be as cool as the millennials who shopped and partied and tattooed themselves on this long stretch of storefronts, but I could still appreciate their culture. It revitalized me, gave me my youth back if only for as long as it took me to finish this cup of coffee.

Italians and coffee were a package deal, like Pittsburghers were with their Steelers football. You couldn’t have one without the other. Espresso was my weakness, and on some mornings, it was my reason for living.

Big Dog Coffee was a favorite of mine, not just for the savory brew but also for the oatmeal bar. An ingenious invention, if you ask me. A healthy, delicious, and perfectly customized breakfast. Though, as a fitness instructor, maybe I was biased.

Midmorning was always one of the busiest times of day, but today only a handful of patrons were scattered at square wooden tables around the trendy coffee shop. I preferred the hubbub of conversation to hushed emptiness where my conversation echoed off the walls. It felt cozier, more private in a room full of chatting people. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t explain it if I tried.

Robin sat across from me beneath a gorgeously chaotic painting of oranges and blues and yellows that resembled a bridge leading into downtown Pittsburgh. She sipped her latte while I admired the froth shaped like a flower floating on my espresso.