Page 16 of Reclaim Me

“You have a new favorite place every other day, Ri,” Aaron replies.

“So what?” She tosses back. “Favorites can change.”

When I found out I was going to have a daughter, I decided that I wouldn’t make her one of those little girls who don’t know how to speak up for themselves. Riley is every bit of the girl I imagined she would be, sometimes a little too much so, and while I love that about her, other people don’t always appreciate it. Marcy is one of those people. I watch her features crumple with disapproval and see her lips part to say something, probably to admonish Riley for being impolite, and feel a volatile reaction brewing inside of me. Thankfully, Aaron sees it too, and he jumps in, interrupting what would be his mom’s reaction before it’s a fully formed thought.

“You’re right, Ri,” he smiles wide, splitting the grin between the three of us, which seems to calm Marcy down a bit. “Tell us what other favorites you discovered today.”

The request makes Riley’s eyes light up, and she takes great pleasure in giving us a play by play of the entire day, undeterred by the fact that the moment she started talking Aaron pulled out his phone and started replying to emails.

I bump his leg with mine and whisper under my breath, “Seriously, Aaron?”

He doesn’t even look at me. “What?”

“You asked her a question, the least you could do is pay attention while she answers it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard at a rapid pace and tremors of annoyance rush down my spine with every letter he types.

“And then Mommy and me saw this man at the cemetery. She said she doesn’t know who he is, but she said his name.” Riley tilts her head to the side and looks at me; the spark in her eye indicates that she just remembered that fact. “How did you know his name was Hunter?”

“Hunter?” Aaron asks because, of course, he chooses now to tune back into the conversation. “Who’s Hunter?”

“The man at the cemetery,” my beautifully unaware daughter supplies, shoving the last of her noodles into her mouth. “Mommy knows him, but she said she doesn’t.”

Marcy arches a brow at me. “Oh, really?”

“Riley, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

After issuing the directive that also serves as a convenient deflection, I pick up my plate and leave the table. I can feel Marcy and Aaron’s questioning gazes following me out of the room, but I don’t stop until I’m in the kitchen, alone and able to breathe. I didn’t realize Riley had heard me say Hunter’s name. I don’t know how she managed to with the door closed and the rain pouring and my heart beating so loudly every person in a ten-mile radius, both living and dead, must have been able to hear it skip a beat when I realized it was Hunter standing in front of me and not some dark figure who meant me harm.

For the first time since I saw him, I allow myself to acknowledge that he looked good. Not just handsome—because with the bald head, dark eyes, and mocha skin covered in tattoos he’s always been handsome— but healthy. Like the man who was my best friend before he was ever my lover. Like the man I pictured a future with before I found out our present was all a lie.

I’m scraping my food into the trash can when Aaron comes in carrying Marcy and Riley’s dishes in addition to his own. He comes up next to me, scraping what little is left on the plates and bowl into the bin on top of my uneaten meal.

“Mom took Riley upstairs to help her with her bedtime routine.”

“She doesn’t need to do that. Riley knows what she has to do.”

“I asked her to.”

“Why?”

“Because something is obviously wrong, and I wanted us to have a chance to talk in private.”

My heart sinks into my stomach as I make my way over to the dishwasher on leaden feet. Aaron follows, watching me closely as I load plates, forks, bowls, and glasses into the machine at a snail’s pace.

“Rae.”

I sigh heavily and stand upright. “Nothing’s wrong, Aaron.”

He crosses his arms, studying my forced calm expression and calling it bullshit with an arched brow. “Who’s Hunter, Rae?”

Swallowing is always impossible when my throat is as dry as it is, but I still try anyway because I need time to prepare myself to answer a question I never thought Aaron would ask. We’ve never talked about Hunter in any context. Our entire relationship is hinged on him loving the version of me that never knew or loved a man who chose his vices over her, and maintaining that illusion meant keeping a lot of things to myself, including Riley’s paternity.

When we decided to move back to New Haven, I knew I was going to be giving up a lot of things. My dance career, the friends I’d made, the coffee shop I frequented too often, and the fifth-floor walk-up Riley and I had lived in since she was a baby, which I made Aaron move into because his place was too far from Riley’s school. I knew this move would mean sacrifice, and I was willing to do it, happy to, even, as long as there were some things I got to keep for myself.

I want so desperately to keep this secret for myself, to guard my lies and carefully crafted illusions so that nothing else has to change, but when I look at Aaron, all I see is his determination to get the answer he feels he is owed. It’s the same way he looked when I told him I wasn’t leaving Manhattan to come back to New Haven. He pressed and pressed and pressed until I said yes, and now we’re here, and everything is falling apart just like I knew it would.

“You can’t ignore me forever, Rachel.”

Bubbles of irritation flare in my chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t call me by my whole name like you’re my dad or something.”

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