Jacob just stared at him. For a second I thought his stranger danger was back. But then he said, “You knew my daddy?”
“Yeah. We were friends.”
“I’m Jacob.” Jacob put out his hand for Donnelley to shake.
His hand completely disappeared into Donnelley’s massive hand as they shook.
“We can be friends too then,” Jacob said.
“I’d like that, kid,” Donnelley said.
I blinked away the tears in my eyes. The wordkidfelt like a knife in my chest.
“Do you know my abuelo?” Jacob asked.
Donnelley smiled. “I sure do.”
“I need to see him,” Jacob said. “It’s very important.”
“Let me go get him. Make yourself at home,” Donnelley said before walking off.
Make yourself at home?I shook my head. This apartment wasn’t a home. But Jacob wandered off into the dining room. He looked up at the huge portrait on the wall. I was pretty sure it had gotten damaged during the Thanksgiving incident. But it had been restored. And somehow the restoration made all of their eyes look even creepier as they glared down at the dining room table. I stared at Isabella. The artist really had captured her cruel eyes perfectly. I looked up at Mrs. Pruitt’s stern face. I wondered if she still looked the same. She’d certainly had enough Botox to freeze her face in time.
Jacob was staring at them. He didn’t really know that people here had thought I was dead. He didn’t know that Miller and I were in hiding. He didn’t know about Isabella. Or Mrs. Pruitt. I’d tried my best to shelter him. But I felt like he should know all of this. He should know why he wasn’t allowed to see his grandfather. Why he couldn’t be part of this family.
“Why aren’t you in the picture, Mommy?”
I ruffled his hair. “Because you and Daddy are my only family.”
“That’s true,” a woman said from behind us.
I spun around to see Mrs. Pruitt standing there. And I was right. She lookedalmostthe same. But her face looked even faker than it had before. Almost…swollen and plasticky looking. And her lips were definitely larger. Like she’d overdone it on the lip injections.
I stepped in front of Jacob. “Where is my father?”
“Busy,” she said. And then she stared down at my son.
I pushed Jacob farther behind me. I’d been so happy to see Donnelley that I’d completely forgotten that there may be more surprise appearances. My father said his wife was residing in the Hamptons. But here she was. Was she back for good? I kind of thought my father had implied that they’d decided to live separately.
Mrs. Pruitt turned her gaze back to me. “You ruined his life, you know.”
For a second I thought maybe she was talking about Miller. Because there was a piece of me that thought that. If I’d just kept my hands to myself…Miller would still be alive. But I couldn’t make myself regret it. I couldn’t.
“Although I guess it really started with your mother.”
I swallowed hard. She wasn’t talking about Miller. She was talking about my father. How hadIruinedhislife? How had my mother? We’d stayed away from him until he literally dragged me back. None of this was on me or my mom.
“That slut ruined everything. You followed her destructive path. And now my daughter is dead.”
How was Isabella’s death my fault? “Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way.”
“Do you prefer the word whore? Prostitute?”
I turned around to cover Jacob’s ears. “Stop it.”
“You’re in my house. I’ll call your whore of a mother whatever I want!”
“Enough,” my father said as he walked into the dining room. “Patricia, our meeting is over. You may go.”
