“Does she know?” I managed. “Jenny?”

“No.” Zach shook his head. “Not a clue.” He looked toward Junie’s alcove, gestured with his hand. “Can I?”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. I wanted this to all be a bad dream, something I could shake away in the morning light. In my mind, Junie didn’t have a father, had simply emerged from me, part of my body and no one else’s. I watched, silent, as Zach stepped into Junie’s room. He sucked in a quick breath, threw me a pained smile over his shoulder. “Smells like her,” he said. A scream built in my head, pounding against my skull as he touched her quilt, ran his hand over her bedside table, picked up one of her textbooks and balanced it in his hand. “I was always good at science. And she was, too. We talked about it sometimes when she was at our house. Izzy never quite grasped it, but Junie did.” He set down the book. “Maybe she got that from me.”

I turned and walked into the kitchen, my breathing shallow and too fast, vision spinning. Banana cream pie climbing back into my throat. I didn’t turn around, even when Zach’s footsteps stopped behind me, his body close enough that I could feel his exhales stir the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck.

“You told them you hadn’t seen me since that night,” he said quietly.

“What?” I sounded like I was sprinting, lungs tight as I tried to outpace something determined to sink its claws into me.

“At the funeral home that first night. With Land. You said you hadn’t seen Junie’s father since the night she was conceived.” He ran one finger down the back of my neck, and my entire body pulsed. “You lied.”

I spun around, startling him enough that this time he was the one to take a step backward. But still too close to me. “I didn’t lie.”

“Yes, you did. Because I’ve been right here, Eve, all this time. All these years.”

“No. Zachary Logan has been here all this time. With his button-down shirts and his boat dealership and his pretty wife and daughter.” I stabbed into his chest with my finger, snatched my hand away the second I made contact. “I don’t know that guy. I don’t recognize him. He’s nothing to me.” I reached behind me and grabbed the counter with both hands, steadying myself. “I didn’t lie,” I repeated.

“Okay,” Zach said, with a little smile. “Omitted, then.” He closed the distance between us, his body almost pressed up against mine. “You recognize me now?” he asked, voice soft.

I looked at him, really looked at him, in a way I hadn’t in years. Letting my eyes linger instead of skipping over him like a busted needle on a record player, getting only the vaguest impression before moving on. And tonight he was as close to my memory as he’d ever been, with his dark hair tousled and messy, his faded blue T-shirt, his smell of sweat and aftershave. He looked real to me for the first time in years.