Page 74 of Six of Hearts
Except when I close my eyes, I don't see those photos. I see him reading to Finn, doing all the character voices, making his son giggle. I see him teaching Finn to tie his shoes with infinitepatience. I see the way his whole face softens when he looks at his boy.
I see the way he looked at me.
My phone buzzes. Another text from Khloe asking if I want Thai food for dinner. I don't answer. I can't think about food when my stomach is twisted in knots.
Instead, I curl up on her couch and let myself drift, exhaustion finally winning.
In the dream, I'm back at Noah's house. The Christmas decorations are up—twinkling lights and garland everywhere. The twins are showing me their new Lego sets, talking over each other in that way they do.
"Aria, Aria, look at mine!"
"No, look at mine first!"
Then Finn toddles over, his little hand reaching for mine. His eyes are so bright, so trusting. He tugs on my sleeve until I crouch down to his level.
"Mama," he says, clear as day. "Where did you go, Mama?"
My heart shatters.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry—"
But he's already walking away, back to Ronan, who scoops him up and holds him close. Ronan looks at me over Finn's head, and his eyes are devastated.
"We needed you," he says. "Why didn't you stay?"
I wake up with tears streaming down my face, my breath coming in gasps. The living room is dark except for the glow of the TV on mute. My cheeks are wet, my throat raw like I've been crying for a while.
"Hey, hey." Khloe's voice cuts through the fog. She's suddenly there, sitting on the edge of the couch, her hand on my shoulder.
"Aria, what's wrong?”
I can't speak. I just shake my head, more tears falling.
She doesn't push. She just sits with me, rubbing my back in slow circles until I can breathe again.
"I had a dream," I finally manage.
"About Finn. He called me Mama."
Khloe's expression softens. "Oh, honey."
"He's so little, Khloe. And Ronan—" My voice cracks.
"He's so good with him. He reads to him every night. He does all the voices. He makes him laugh. He's patient and gentle and—" I press my hands to my face.
"How can someone who's that good with his kid be a murderer?"
"Maybe he's not," Khloe says quietly.
I look up at her, surprised.
She shrugs. "I'm just saying. You've spent months with these guys. You've seen them with their kids, in their homes, when they didn't know you were watching. Does Ronan seem like a cold-blooded killer to you?"
"No," I whisper. "But the photos—"
"Who sent you those photos, Aria?"
The question stops me cold. "I... I don't know."
