“As of right now, it’s just a kid—as in a single child, you mean.” I screwed up my courage and took a deep breath. “Chris, can you just find out if he’s safe?” No answer. “Would you do that for me?”

Again, he didn’t respond. I felt tears coming on. Why would he help me with my kids? They were nothing to him other than a sore reminder.

Finally, he spoke. “I will help you, but under one condition.”

“Anything.” My heart started racing. “Anything at all.”

He laughed. “That’s a good response, because I can think of lots of things.”

“Please, Christopher,” I pleaded. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

He said, “I will help you, Teresa, but you cannot ask me about this again. If I find out something, I’ll tell you. Otherwise no questions. I won’t answer them, and they’ll annoy the hell out of me.”

I was trying to calm myself. “Do you know something that you don’t want me to know?”

“That’s a question.”

“Chris—”

“I don’t know anything, okay?”

“But you will—”

“Stop!”

“Okay.” His mood had changed. I could only push him so far. I said, “Thank you so much—”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

I said, “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“Nothing you said.” He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. “I know you can’t live here.” His hands roved across my chest. “But it’ll kill me when you go.”

“No, I can’t live here,” I whispered. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“No, Terry, we can’t be friends.”

“I was going to say we can still have some kind of a relationship.”

“Sexual relationship.”

I was quiet. Then I turned over to face him and said, “If we’re going to continue down this path, I need some things from you.”

“Hit me.”

“First and foremost, I need to see Juleen.”

“I figured. You know I never touched her.” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Ask her.”

“Oh, I will.”

He said, “I’m not her father, I don’t get near her. Even when I talk to her, I stand on the other side of the room. When I get mad at you, I say stupid things.”

“Really stupid things. What’s her schedule?”

“She has tutors until four.”

“What about her meals?”

“She takes care of her own breakfast. I bring her lunch and dinner. After four, I help her with homework or with her practicing.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s a smart girl. No mystery there. I imagine her father is a bright guy.”

“He’s a brilliant cardiac surgeon.”

“That didn’t stop him from fucking up his life.”

“Didn’t stop me either. How’s her playing progressing?”

“Okay.”

“She’s no Gabe.”