Chapter 9
I asked Celeste why she wanted June away from Ava.
Her answer came too quickly.
“Boundaries.”
I almost laughed.
“Try again.”
“She’s staff.”
“Again.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
“Ava listens to her.”
There.
Truth.
“And?”
“She repeats things.”
“So does every three-year-old.”
“That’s the problem.”
My body became cold.
“What had Ava repeated?”
Celeste said nothing.
June answered from the doorway.
“Conversations.”
I turned.
“What conversations?”
“Celeste and Nolan.”
Nolan closed his eyes.
Good.
June continued.
“Ava heard them once discussing Arthur.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
My eyes moved to Celeste.
That explained the isolation.
“What did Ava hear?”
June looked uncertain.
“She said Celeste was angry about ‘the coat man.’”
Arthur had been trying to re-enter for months.
Not tonight.
Celeste already knew.
I looked at Arthur.
He nodded.
“I approached one of your old guards in July.”
“What happened?”
“Nolan intercepted him.”
Nolan said nothing.
Arthur continued.
“After that, I stopped trying adult channels.”
I frowned.
“So you waited for the memorial.”
“Yes.”
“Because security would be crowded.”
“And because your father’s coat would be here.”
Clever.
Possibly reckless.
Still clever.
I turned to Celeste.
“You knew he might come.”
“Yes.”
“So you pushed June away from Ava in case he used her.”
Celeste’s eyes filled.
“I wanted to protect her.”
“No.”
My voice dropped.
“You wanted to protect what she could carry to me.”
Silence.
Ava had become an information route.
That was why Celeste needed control around her.
Not because she hated my daughter.
Maybe she even loved her.
But when love conflicted with secrecy, secrecy won.
That distinction ended our future.
“You were going to marry me in six weeks.”
Her face broke.
“I know.”
“And bring this secret into the marriage.”
“I was trying to bury it.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at the ring.
“Like my father.”
That hurt her.
Good.
Some metaphors deserve precision.
May you like
The difference was my father’s grave contained a replica.
Our marriage would have contained the real lie.
