Chapter 2

"Mommy…"

A small voice pulled me from the ache.

I looked down. Luna was floating beside me. Her tiny hand tugged at the edge of my shirt.

She tilted her face up. Her big eyes were full of confusion.

"Why does Daddy call me 'that little thing'? Does he not like me?"

My chest seized. I shook my head.

"No. Of course Daddy likes you."

"Then why has Daddy never come to the preschool picnic?" Luna's lip quivered. Her voice shrank. "All the other kids have their daddies there…"

My throat closed. I couldn't speak.

The memories rushed in.

Ashford and I did love each other once. Real love.

We met in college, at an entrepreneurship competition. Like something scripted. Instant. Irreversible.

The dating. The wedding. It all felt inevitable.

I still remember the first pregnancy test. My hands were shaking around that plastic stick.

I threw myself into his arms. Shy. Electric.

"Ash, we're going to be parents."

He held me so tight. He whispered in my ear about his deepest childhood scar. Being abandoned by his father. He swore he would be the best father in the world. He would never abandon anyone. I believed him.

I thought I had found the love of my life.

I was four months pregnant when Whitney came back from the London School of Economics. Back to New York.

He got the call and dropped his glass of Jack Daniel's on the floor. He was that excited.

I'd heard the name before, here and there. I told myself it was the past. He'd chosen me. He'd married me. He would know where the line was. He would protect our family.

I was wrong. After that call, he went cold. He started finding excuses to leave. Then he just started leaving. Early mornings. Late nights. Then no nights at all.

The worst moment came when he booked me an appointment to terminate the pregnancy. He wanted me to get rid of the baby.

That killed whatever was left. The man I loved was dead. But the child inside me was innocent. I could lose my husband. I would not lose my child. That baby was mine. Nobody would take her from me.

"I'm having this baby. You can leave. But you will never make me sign those papers."

He backed down. Not out of love. I threatened to tell his father. Ashford's greatest terror in life was becoming the man who raised him.

After that, he always smelled like someone else's perfume.

Seven months in, a car hit me. Luna came early. She lay in the NICU, so tiny, so fragile, like a little kitten.

He never came. Whitney had him trapped. He didn't visit once.

She told him the baby didn't make it. She lied. He believed her. He even looked relieved.

I will never forget the words he said.

"That's probably for the best. Whitney doesn't like kids. We can start over."

That was the moment. The final freeze.

I took Luna home in secret. I decided he would never know the truth. I was terrified that his idea of love would lead him to hurt my child.

But fate is cruel. Luna was eighteen months old when Ashford ran into us at Bloomingdale's. He froze in place. His face went white. He charged at me with no facts, just fury.

"Ivy Shaw, whose kid is that? You've been seeing someone else?"

I begged him to understand she was our daughter. He refused to listen.

Whitney was there, fanning the flames.

"Ash, her eyes look nothing like yours. How could she possibly be yours?"

From that day on, he called Luna "that little thing." I showed him the birth certificate. He said it was proof I'd cheated.

"Mommy?"

Luna's voice pulled me back.

She tilted her head. "Why are you crying?"

I realized my soul was shaking.

Ghosts can still feel heartache. Good to know.

I crouched to hold her. My arms closed around nothing.

"Luna, Daddy doesn't dislike you. He just… forgot."