“I know about Abel, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I can’t go back in time and fix what I didn’t do either, so there’s no sense in talking about it. He has a right, is all I’m saying.”

“No, he doesn’t. Not anymore. Not since he married me and since we’re bringing a baby into the world. He gave up that right when he decided those things,” I say, the words coming out of a place of hurt. I clear my throat and swallow back tears. “You should get some rest. Work after. When you’re home.”

“It’s important work, Ivy. Something he needs—”

“What about what you need?”

“Something I need. I was going to say something I need as much.”

The rain that had been a sprinkle on our drive now picks up hammering against the hospital window. The door opens. Marco clears his throat as another man, someone I don’t know, stands just outside.

I stand. “I guess that’s my cue.” It’s a short visit, and I wonder if it was Santiago’s way of showing me he hadn’t hurt my father. Yet.

Without a word, I walk out of the room and let Marco take me back home in silence. It’s still late morning when I’m back, and the house is quiet except for the housekeepers doing their work. I go upstairs to change into a bathing suit and put on a robe, but rather than going straight down to the pool, I walk through the secret entrance to the nursery. I haven’t been back here since the other morning, and many more boxes, presents from The Society and friends of Santiago’s family, are stacked and waiting to be unwrapped. I don’t have the heart for it right now, though, so I make my way to the glassed-in swimming pool attached to the house. I haven’t been swimming much, mostly because he doesn’t want me doing it alone, but it helps me expend some energy and clear my head. Besides, he has nothing to worry about. I am a fine swimmer, and I have never had any episodes while in the water.

I pad barefoot through the house and pass by the corridor that leads to his study, thinking about how he’d said I needed to stop hovering. I’d come to talk to him about what Colette told me when I’d overheard him speaking to Angelo, the friend who only seems to come at odd hours.

The sky is a deep, cloudy gray with rain coming down hard. It’s perfect for my mood.