For almost an hour, nothing happened.
Then the curtain across the street moved.
A girl stepped into the upstairs window.
Dark hair.
About Ava’s height.
She turned her head.
Then she noticed me.
We stared at each other through the distance between our houses.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then the curtain suddenly closed.
The next morning, I started making an apple pie.
Ryan walked into the kitchen while I was rolling the dough.
“What’s that for?”
“The neighbors across the street.”
His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
“Why them?”
“Because Gabriella has seen that girl twice.”
I paused.
“And now I have too.”
Ryan’s expression changed.
“Just leave this alone today.”
I stopped rolling.
“Why?”
“You don’t need to walk over there because Gabby saw someone in a window.”
“I saw her too.”
His jaw tightened.
“Fine. Let me take the pie over when it’s done.”
I studied him.
“You told me you hadn’t met them.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then why are you volunteering?”
“I’m trying to make things easier.”
I didn’t answer.
Twenty minutes after the pie came out of the oven, Ryan watched me wrap it.
“Aurora, please.”
I picked it up.
“If there’s something I need to know before I cross that street, say it now.”
He went pale.
“Just don’t go over there angry.”
“I wasn’t angry.”
I looked at him.
“Not until now.”
A woman who looked to be in her late 50s opened the door.
“Hi. We just moved into the house across the street.”
Her expression shifted for half a second before she smiled.
“Of course. I’m Nina.”
I held out the pie.
“I thought I’d introduce myself. My daughter keeps noticing someone in your upstairs window.”
Nina’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the door.
“My granddaughter lives here.”
I studied her.
“My daughter is five. We lost her older sister a few months ago. Twice now, she’s insisted your granddaughter is her.”
Nina’s smile disappeared.
“I’m very sorry.”
“I saw her myself last night.”
A young voice called from somewhere inside.
“Grandma, who’s at the door?”
Nina turned toward the hallway.
“Stay inside for a minute, Maisie.”
But footsteps were already coming down the stairs.
A girl appeared behind her.
The pie slipped from my hands.
The dish shattered against the porch.
“Oh my God, Ava? What the hell is going on here?”
The girl stopped.
“I’m Maisie,” she said. “Not Ava.”
I couldn’t answer.
Up close, she definitely wasn’t Ava.
But she had the same dark hair.
The same kind of smile.
And those eyes.
Ryan’s eyes.
Then Maisie pushed her hair behind her ear.
My breath caught.
“I’m Maisie,” she repeated. “Not Ava.”
Nina stepped beside her.
“Maisie, honey, go upstairs for me.”
Maisie looked between us.
“Did I do something?”
“No,” I said immediately.
She hesitated, then slowly headed upstairs.
I waited until she was gone.
Then I looked at Nina.
“You looked like you recognized me when you opened the door.”
Nina’s shoulders dropped.
“You must be Aurora.”
My stomach turned cold.
I had never told her my name.
“How do you know that?”
Nina looked toward the staircase.
“Ryan didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
She didn’t answer.
Then I noticed a framed photograph on a table behind her.
I stepped closer to the doorway.
The picture wasn’t old.
And standing beside Maisie was my husband.
Ryan.
My husband.
The man who had told me he’d never met the people living across the street.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“How long has my husband known your granddaughter?”
Nina looked at me.
“Aurora, you need to speak to Ryan.”
“Did he know Maisie lived here before we bought that house?”
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Her face had already told me everything.
And suddenly, I wasn’t wondering why Maisie looked like Ava.
I was wondering why my husband had moved us directly across the street from her.
I ran home.
Ryan was standing in the kitchen.
He looked at my empty hands.
“Did they like the pie?”
“Who is Maisie?”
His face lost all color.
“Who is Maisie to you, Ryan?”
I closed the door behind me.
“How long have you known?”
He didn’t answer.
“Is she your daughter?”
He sat down.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Her mother wrote to me. Maisie had started asking about her father.”
He swallowed.
“We did a DNA test.”
I gripped the counter.
“Is she your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know before we moved?”
Ryan looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you choose this house because she lived across the street?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
That silence was enough.
“You did.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you, Aurora.”
“How many times have you seen her?”
“Four.”
“We’ve been here less than two weeks.”
“I went over while you were unpacking.”
I stared at him.
“While I was unpacking boxes from Ava’s room?”
He looked down.
“While I was unpacking Gabby’s things?”
His face crumpled.
“I couldn’t save her.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I couldn’t save Ava.”
Then he pressed both hands over his face.
“I hear the crash every night. Then I learned I had another daughter. I looked at her picture, and she had my eyes.”
I stared at him.
“You’d already missed 11 years.”
He nodded.
“And somewhere in that decision, you forgot I was your wife.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“You were protecting yourself from telling me.”
He flinched.
I stepped closer.
“Did Maisie know about Ava?”
“Yes.”
“Did you show her pictures?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her about us?”
“That I had a wife and two daughters.”
I stared at him.
“You told Maisie about Ava as if she were still part of our everyday life.”
“I didn’t know how else to talk about her.”
“You were ready to move our family three hours away.”
He said nothing.
Then I asked the question I hated myself for asking.
“Did you ever look at Maisie and wish she was Ava?”
“No.”
He held my gaze.
Then he looked away.
“Once.”
I turned away.
“She laughed. It sounded like Ava for a second.”
His voice broke.
“I hated myself immediately.”
I understood that.
