Chapter 2

Shortly after the wedding, Liam announced he was taking an overseas assignment.

London. Three years.

He framed it as a career necessity, a brilliant opportunity.

I knew it was an escape.

An escape from me, from the marriage he never wanted.

I didn't argue. What was the point?

A few weeks after he left, I found out I was pregnant.

Grace.

I called him, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and a fragile new hope.

Maybe a child, our child, would change things.

"That's... unexpected," was all he said, his voice distant over the transatlantic line.

No joy, no excitement. Just a pause, then, "Well, you'll manage. You always do."

And I did.

I stayed in our New York home, the one he' d fled.

I went to doctor's appointments alone.

I felt Grace' s first kick alone.

I gave birth to her alone, with only the hospital staff for company.

My father offered to be there, but I wanted, foolishly, for Liam to be the one.

He sent flowers, a generic card signed with his name. No call.

I poured all my love, all my shattered hopes, into Grace.

She was my world, my reason.

I raised her, trying to fill the void left by her absent father.

I told myself he was busy, that he was working hard for us.

I clung to the belief that when he returned, he would see Grace, see me, and things would be different.

Three years is a long time to hope.

A long time to be alone.

I learned to be independent, managing the household, our finances, Grace.

I learned to live with the quiet ache of his absence.

I still loved him, or perhaps, the idea of him, the man I thought he could be.

The man I hoped he would become for Grace.