Chapter 4

Alice's POV

*Two words that destroyed everything.

I didn't stick around to hear the rest. I grabbed my keys and got out of there before he could find me.

A month later, the photos showed up everywhere. Adrian at the airport with Isabelle, the two of them looking like they'd stepped out of some goddamn fairy tale. The headlines were all about the golden couple reuniting, about how perfect they were together.

That night, Adrian came home late. I asked him if he was going to marry her, and he said it was complicated.

I started planning my escape that same week. Found someone to take over the flower shop lease. Got new documents under my mother's maiden name.

Two weeks later, Adrian left for a business trip. The night he left, I packed everything I owned into two suitcases. I left the designer clothes, the jewelry, everything he'd ever bought me except for enough cash to get by. I wrote him a note that said I'd found a better life and he shouldn't look for me.

Then I stood in that penthouse one last time, looking at the place I'd called home for three years, and I let myself cry. Not because I wanted to stay. But because I'd wasted three years loving someone who was never going to love me back.

I walked out into the rain and didn't look back.

Six months later, Rosie was born in a tiny clinic in Seaview. She came out screaming with a full head of dark hair and those unmistakable gray-blue eyes. The nurse asked if I wanted to call the father, and I said no. As far as I was concerned, Adrian Smith had made his choice when he said "I know" to his mother.*

A soft knock on my bedroom door pulled me out of the past.

"Mommy?" Rosie's little voice came through. "Are you okay? You've been in there for a really long time."

I wiped my face and tried to pull myself together. "Yeah, baby. Come in."

She climbed up onto the bed and curled into my side, her small hand finding mine. "Miss Maria made soup. She says you need to eat something."

"That's sweet of her." I kissed the top of Rosie's head, breathing in the strawberry scent of her shampoo. "And sweet of you for checking on me."

"Mommy?" She looked up at me with those eyes that were so much like her father's. "How come I don't have a daddy like the other kids?"

The question felt like a knife between my ribs. "You do have a daddy, sweetheart. He just lives far away."

"Will I ever get to meet him?"

He's in this town right now. He held your hand yesterday and has no idea you're his daughter.

"Maybe someday," I whispered, because I didn't know what else to say.

After Rosie fell asleep, I stood by her bed and watched her breathe. She looked so peaceful, so innocent. She had his eyes, his dark hair, even that little furrow between her eyebrows when she was dreaming.

The Smith family had money and power and an army of lawyers. If Adrian found out Rosie was his daughter, what was stopping them from taking her away from me? I was nobody, just a single mom running a struggling bookstore in a tiny coastal town. I couldn't fight them. I wouldn't win.

I can't lose you, baby. I won't let that happen.

The next day, I tried to act normal. I opened the shop, helped customers, made small talk about the weather and book recommendations. But I was jumpy. Every time the bell over the door rang, my heart would jump into my throat.

He's going to show up. You know he is.

By six o'clock, my nerves were completely shot. I flipped the sign to "Closed" and started tidying up, just wanting this day to be over.

Then I heard footsteps on the porch. A shadow fell across the glass door.

I looked up.

Adrian stood there in one of his expensive suits, holding a bouquet of tulips. My tulips. Yellow and purple, the same ones he used to buy for the penthouse every week.

Our eyes met through the glass, and I felt everything I'd been trying to bury for three years come rushing back.

My hand went to the door handle. I stood there frozen, unable to decide what to do.

"Alice." His voice was muffled through the door, but I heard every word. "I know you're in there. Can we talk? Please?"

Run. Lock the door. Pretend you're not here.

But I couldn't move. My hand stayed on that door handle, and my feet stayed planted on the floor.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. "I just want to talk. That's all I'm asking for."

The tulips looked so bright against the fading evening light. The same flowers he used to bring home every Friday without fail, the ones I'd told him were my favorite during our second week together.

He'd remembered. After all this time, he'd remembered.

What do I do? What the hell do I do?

My fingers tightened on the door handle. Adrian stood there on the other side of the glass, patient and hopeful and looking at me like I was something precious he'd lost and finally found again.

And I stood there, my heart breaking all over again, unable to open the door and unable to walk away.