“Dude,” Cali says, clutching my arm and gesturing to a couple in the park who are playing with their two small children. The mother, who looks about Gemma’s age, catches my eye first. She’s attractive and slim with black hair and light eyes. As I look more closely at her, I realize that she looks exhausted and maybe a little melancholy watching her children. Then her eyes meet her son’s and she lights up. I glance across the field at the father and feel the gut punch of recognition. Gianluca is playfully chasing a toddler who runs in circles, squealing with delight. Seeing him here is so out of context that my mind struggles to make sense of it.

“Maybe it’s his niece and nephew?” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

“Does he have siblings?” Cali asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go say hi?” Cali asks softly.

“Nah,” I say. “Anyway, we have to get going to catch the Buquebus. Right, Gemma?” I say, turning to find her.

“Oh, we have a few minutes. Why . . .” And then she sees what we’re looking at. I’m half surprised that G doesn’t notice the four of us there, but then again, he’s not expecting us, and he’s focused on . . . his kids. We’re only an hour away from Buenos Aires, and yet we’re in another country where Gianluca, evidently, has another life.

Both Edward and Gemma are quiet for a moment as we all watch the little family convening near a bench. The boy and girl climb all over G, clinging to him as he sips a thermos of what I assume is maté and has a tense-looking conversation with the woman.

“You didn’t know?” Edward says, making me realize that he did. Perhaps it’s how he pled his case to get Edward to invest: I have a family to support.

“No,” I say. “No.”

“Well, he’s not with her, is he?” Gemma asks.

“I honestly have no idea. I don’t know what’s going on. Edward?” I ask.

Edward shakes his head. “They’ve been split up for a long time.”

“Let’s go,” Cali says finally. “Do you want to go, Liz?”

We make our way silently back to the ferry terminal and board the Buquebus to head back to where we came from.

“Maybe,” Gemma says, sitting down gingerly next to me on the upper deck, “there is a good explanation.”

“For why Gianluca has a secret family that he’s never mentioned to me?”

“But maybe there is more to the story. Maybe he’s not the bad guy. It’s so much more complicated when there are children involved.” I’m surprised that Gemma is defending him.