It wasn’t until she saw him with Allegra that she wondered if she had done the right thing for her son. Nick was a natural dad, dedicated and patient. Gone was the playboy who thought of the world as his oyster. Nick Dewar was a changed man. Bobby was the first one to notice, pointing out that his brother actually seemed happy to be back in Alma, and Gina had to agree. Nick was still Nick: playful, charismatic, and bold. But he was also a family man now.
Though Calan wasn’t magnetic and carefree like Nick, he was a rebel in his own quiet way, and Gina often wondered if that was something he had inherited from Nick. Would he be happier if Nick had raised him? Whenever she heard Calan talk about working with graphic novels instead of running the family business, she was reminded of her conversations with Nick back when they were best friends.
But these what-ifs were pointless. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t go back in time and choose differently. It’s that she wouldn’t want to. At nineteen, she had been certain that she loved both men, but after having been married to Bobby for almost that long she had learned that real love wasn’t the wonderful-yet-fading passion of youth. It was building a life together, sharing every single day with the same person; it was having a partner, a best friend, someone who you would literally trust with your life, no questions asked. Bobby was her true love.
She and Nick hadn’t resumed the friendship they had back in college—how could they?—but they had grown close again. Sometimes all it took was for them to laugh at the same joke, usually one that no one else understood or thought of as funny, for her to feel a pull at the invisible thread that linked them together.
Gina never took off the necklace he’d given her. It had become a symbol, a reminder of the girl she used to be and of the woman she’d become. The pearl around her neck represented the choices she’d made. To defy her parents. Honor her brother. And love two men but choose only one. From the moment Nick gave her that necklace, Gina had felt seen. He’d understood her. Loved her. And she had loved him back. A part of her would always love Nick, would always remember their time together.
Which is why the video she has seen had felt like a one-two punch, first to her stomach, then to her jaw. She recognized him instantly—she doesn’t understand how anyone has trouble telling him and Bobby apart. And though she has only seen pictures and videos of Eva, Gina recognizes her, too. The woman who has haunted her mind for so long.
Understanding crashes into her like a wave. In an instant, she is no longer standing in her kitchen. She is lost at sea—drowning, sinking.
Nick is the one having an affair with Eva Stone.
Forty-Five
Malaika
Friday, November 1st
Malaika is about to climb up the stairs, Allegra perched on her hip, when Nick walks in through the front door. A jolt of shock shoots up her spine, nearly toppling her over. She grabs the banister to steady herself.
“Daddy!” Allegra chirps, reaching her arms in Nick’s direction.
Malaika tightens her grip.
“Daddy is home for bedtime!” Nick’s tone is playful, celebratory.
Nick makes a move to pick up Allegra. Malaika hands her over in slow motion. There is a siren going off in her brain, a warning.
Nick’s eyes land on Malaika. “Are you all right?”
Malaika should stop staring, but she can’t. How had she not realized it before? The man inside the coffee shop had been wearing a perfectly fitted purple blazer with gold cufflinks. A deep shade of purple, too—sophisticated and regal. The sort of piece her employer owns. The quality of the video is awful, courtesy of the café’s hobo lighting, but she should’ve seen it. Should’ve paid attention. Instead, she’d been focused on Calan, whose face had been greener than the Grinch in Allegra’s storybooks.
“I’ve got bedtime covered,” Nick tells her with a smile.
“OK,” Malaika says. She turns to go up the stairs, willing her feet to move as quickly as possible.
Inside her room, Malaika lowers her body onto her bed and takes out her phone. She tries calling Calan, but he does not pick up. Her fingers compose a quick text.
Call me.
Why had Nick been in that café? Malaika can think of a dozen reasons. Mostly, she is worried about Calan. His relationship with his dad is a complicated one—and he hero-worships his uncle.
She reaches for her sketchpad on her nightstand and begins working on a new drawing. The act is relaxing, almost meditative. It soothes her startled mind.
Her phone buzzes when she is working on the contours of a pair of high-waist trousers. A text from Calan.
My mom thinks it’s Uncle Nick on the video.
Malaika thumbs a reply as quickly as she can.
It is. Call me.
Her phone lights up instantly.
“How do you know?” Calan asks, out of breath.
“His clothes. He was wearing the same blazer just now when he got home.” A pause. “I don’t know how I didn’t make the connection before. I’m sorry.”
“Shoot,” he says. “Did you say something?”
“Of course not.” Malaika tucks her legs under her on the bed.
A pained exhale from Calan. “She thinks
