most.
PLEASE CALL HER.
At 6:02, he answered.
Again, not with a call.
I can’t keep doing this with you.
I need two weeks where every crisis isn’t made into my responsibility.
I’m turning my phone off.
Do not contact the yacht.
The yacht.
That was what mattered.
Not me.
Not Lily.
Not the hospital.
The yacht needed protection from interruption.
Fifteen minutes later, my sister Rebecca arrived in mismatched shoes and a coat over her pajamas.
She found me sitting outside Lily’s room with David’s message glowing on my phone.
She read it.
Her face changed.
“Where is he?”
“The Bahamas.”
“With her?”
I looked at Rebecca.
She had suspected Julianne before I had allowed myself to.
“Yes.”
Rebecca sat beside me and quietly took the phone from my hand.
“Stop calling him.”
“I have to tell him.”
“You have told him.”
“He’s her father.”
“And you have
