Chapter 225

The next week, I spent time in my room with my daughter, whom I had named Constance after my mother. She was a beautiful child, carrying more of Adler's features than she did mine.

Every time she looked at me with those piercing greens, I fought the urge to breakdown before her crib. It hurt that she was never going to know the man she took after.

Salvatore came around often, even without a reason. Sometimes he brought a doctor; two days ago, he had hints of getting me a therapist, but I shut the offer down before a chance to think it through.

Judging that I spent most of my time asleep, he needed the sessions more than I did, for although he no longer used the crutch, each day his health deteriorated.

His cheekbones, with sunken eyes and patched lips, were sharper than a knife, and when he smiled at Constance, it never reached his pupils.

I hadn't seen him in a few days, and when I called, his phone was off.

One morning, I woke to my baby's cries and sunlight streaming through the op