Chapter 3 - The Man Who Disappeared Seven Years Ago|
Dominic stared at Emma as though she had spoken a language he had forgotten.
"Say that again."
Emma wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
"Nicholas Reed is Lily's father."
"Reed?"
"Yes."
Dominic looked away.
Something was happening behind his eyes, something that seemed to involve anger, disbelief, and an old wound opening all at once.
"Where did you meet him?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Please, Emma."
She studied his face.
The powerful man who had entered Rosie's Diner surrounded by armed security now looked like someone standing at the edge of a terrible memory.
Emma folded her arms.
"I met Nick seven years ago at a used bookstore near Lakeview."
Dominic lowered himself into the chair beside her.
"Tell me everything."
Emma closed her eyes.
For years, remembering Nicholas had felt like reopening a wound she had never been allowed to heal.
She had been twenty-two, working two part-time jobs while trying to finish community college.
Nicholas had walked into the bookstore looking for a poetry collection that had been out of print for decades.
He wore a cheap gray jacket and carried an old messenger bag.
His hair was dark, his smile crooked, and his voice unexpectedly gentle.
He had asked whether the shop carried books about birds.
Emma had laughed.
"Are you a birdwatcher?"
"Not exactly."
"Then why birds?"
"Because they know when it's time to leave."
She had thought it was a strange answer.
Later, she would remember it as a warning.
Nicholas started visiting the bookstore almost every afternoon.
Sometimes he bought a book.
Sometimes he simply stayed to talk while Emma arranged the shelves.
He never arrived in expensive cars.
He never mentioned a wealthy family.
He told her he worked at a small printing business and preferred ordinary places because ordinary people were usually honest.
One rainy evening, he walked her home beneath an umbrella that was missing two metal spokes.
They were both soaked when they reached her apartment.
He kissed her on the doorstep.
And Emma remembered thinking she had finally found someone who would stay.
For nearly a year, Nicholas made her believe in that possibility.
He cooked terrible spaghetti, left handwritten notes inside her books, and brought flowers home in empty coffee cups.
When she told him she was pregnant, he had cried.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he was happy.
"He actually cried?" Dominic asked quietly.
Emma nodded.
"He kept saying we were going to have a family."
She looked toward Lily's hospital room.
"He wanted a daughter."
Dominic pressed his lips together.
"What happened next?"
Emma's voice trembled.
"Three weeks later, he disappeared."
Nicholas had called one evening and said he needed to finish something important before midnight.
He promised to return with groceries and the little strawberry cake Emma had been craving.
He never came home.
The following afternoon, Emma received a text message from his phone.
Don't look for me.
I don't want a wife or a baby.
Forget we ever met.
She called him seventy-three times.
Every call went to voicemail.
She visited the print shop, but the building was locked and the windows were covered with plywood.
When she went to the police, she was told an adult could leave voluntarily.
She had no evidence that a crime had occurred.
Three months later, Emma moved into a cheaper apartment.
She never saw Nicholas again.
"And that's the last you heard from him?" Dominic asked.
"Yes."
"No phone calls?"
"None."
"No letters?"
"Nothing."
Dominic stared at the tiled hospital floor.
Emma watched him closely.
"Why are you asking me these questions?"
He didn't answer.
"Dominic?"
"Do you have a photograph of him?"
Emma hesitated.
She had deleted most of Nicholas's pictures after Lily was born because the memories hurt too much.
But one remained on her phone.
It showed Nicholas standing beside Lake Michigan on a windy September afternoon.
He had one arm around Emma's shoulders.
Her hair was blowing across her face.
Nicholas was laughing.
For a moment, the photograph made her feel twenty-two again.
She handed Dominic the phone.
He looked at the screen.
Then all the color left his face.
The paper coffee cup slipped from his fingers.
Dark liquid spread across the floor.
Emma jumped.
"What's wrong?"
Dominic didn't move.
His eyes were fixed on the smiling man in the photograph.
"Where did you get this picture?"
"I took it."
"When?"
"September, seven years ago."
Dominic enlarged the image.
His thumb trembled against the glass.
Emma had never seen fear look quite like that.
Not in someone who carried himself like a man who had survived every possible threat.
"Dominic, you're scaring me."
He finally looked up.
"Did he ever tell you about his family?"
Emma shook her head.
"He said his parents were dead."
"Anything else?"
"He said he had a brother."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Emma continued.
"But they weren't speaking."
"Did he tell you why?"
"No."
"Did he ever mention Chicago's South Side?"
"He grew up there."
"Did he ever mention a woman named Sofia?"
Emma frowned.
"That was his mother's name."
Dominic brought his hand to his mouth.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Emma remembered something.
"Nick gave me a small wooden music box before he disappeared."
Dominic's head lifted.
"What kind?"
"Dark wood, with two little birds carved into the lid."
"Swallows?"
"I think so."
Dominic stood so abruptly that Emma flinched.
"Where is it?"
"At home."
"Is it locked?"
"No."
"Has anyone else touched it?"
"Only Lily."
He looked toward the hospital room.
Emma grabbed his wrist.
"Stop asking questions and tell me what's happening."
Dominic looked down at her hand.
Then he looked into her eyes.
"My mother used to carve swallows into everything she made."
Emma stared at him.
"What does that have to do with Nick?"
Dominic swallowed.
"Reed was my mother's maiden name."
The hallway seemed to fall silent.
Emma slowly released his wrist.
"Dominic, what are you saying?"
He looked once more at the photograph.
The resemblance was undeniable.
The same dark eyes.
The same strong jaw.
The same slight crookedness in the smile.
But where Dominic carried the hard expression of a man shaped by violence, Nicholas looked warm and almost boyish.
Dominic's voice broke on the next words.
"That man isn't Nicholas Reed."
Emma shook her head.
"Yes, he is."
"No, Emma."
He turned the phone toward her.
"His real name was Nicholas Salvatore."
Emma felt a sharp pain beneath her ribs.
Dominic took a breath.
"He was my younger brother."
May you like
Then he said the words that would change Lily's life forever.
"And seven years ago, my family told me he was dead."
