The cold had numbed her limbs, but it hadn’t numbed her heart. Grief overwhelmed her. She wanted to sink under the surface and never come up. She gulped for air and whispered words she’d never intended to say. “You don’t care, do you?”

“You’re just trying to pick a fight,” he said softly. “Come on. Your teeth are chattering.”

Words slid through the tightness in her throat. “I know you don’t care. I even understand.”

“Molly, don’t do this to yourself.”

“We had a little girl,” she whispered. “I made them find out and tell me.”

The water lapped the bank. His hushed words drifted across the smooth surface. “I didn’t know.”

“I named her Sarah.”

“You’re tired. This isn’t a good time.”

She shook her head. Looked up into the sky. Spoke the truth, not to condemn him, just to point out why he could never understand how she felt. “Losing her didn’t mean anything to you.”

“I haven’t thought about it. The baby wasn’t real to me like it was to you.”

“She! The baby was a she, not an it!”

“I’m sorry.”

The unfairness of attacking him silenced her. It was wrong to condemn him for not sharing her suffering. Of course the baby hadn’t been real to him. He hadn’t invited Molly into his bed, hadn’t wanted a child, hadn’t carried the baby inside him.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. My emotions keep getting away from me.” Her hand trembled as she pushed a strand of wet hair from her eyes. “I won’t bring this up again. I promise you.”

“Come on out now,” he said quietly.

Her limbs were clumsy from the cold, and her clothes heavy as she swam toward the bank. By the time she got there, he’d climbed out onto a low, flat rock.

He crouched down and pulled her up beside him. She landed on her knees, a cold, dripping, miserable wreck.

He tried to lighten the mood. “At least I kicked off my shoes before I dove in. Yours flew off when you hit the water. I’d have gone after them, but I was in shock.”

The rock had retained some of the day’s heat, and a little of it seeped through her clammy shorts. “It doesn’t matter. They were my oldest sandals.” Her last pair of Manolo Blahniks. Given the current state of her finances, she’d have to replace them with rubber shower thongs.

“You can pick up another pair in town tomorrow.” He rose. “We’d better head back before you get sick. Why don’t you start walking? I’ll catch up with you as soon as I rescue my own shoes.”