Chapter 1 - The Woman at the Dinner TablePiper’s question landed harder than any insult Delaney had heard from the Ashfords.
“Then why are you here?”
The dining room went still.
Aria lowered her spoon. Carmela froze near the sideboard. Even the old house seemed to hold its breath behind the polished walls and crystal chandeliers.
Delaney looked at Piper’s small face, at the sharp chin lifted in challenge, at the protective little hand wrapped around Aria’s wrist beneath the table.
The child was not cruel.
She was terrified.
Delaney knew that kind of fear. It disguised itself as anger. It made a person bare their teeth before anyone could notice they were shaking.
“I’m here,” Delaney said carefully, “because your father asked me to help.”
Piper narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t ask.”
That was so true Delaney almost smiled.
“He asked me,” Delaney said. “And I said yes because I know what it feels like to lose your family all at once.”
Aria’s eyes softened.
Piper did not move.
“You’re not our mother,” Piper said.
“No,” Delaney replied. “I’m not.”
The answer seemed to surprise the girl.
Delaney set her spoon down and folded her hands on the edge of the table. “I’m not here to replace her. I’m not here to make you call me anything you don’t want to call me. I’m not here to erase her pictures, move her things or pretend I know your favorite songs.”
Piper’s mouth tightened, but her eyes flickered.
“I am here,” Delaney continued, “to make sure you eat dinner. To learn that Aria is allergic to strawberries. To remember that the hallway light stays on. To sit in the front row at piano lessons if you want me there, and wait outside if you don’t.”
Aria whispered, “You’d come to piano?”
“If you invited me.”
Piper leaned forward. “And if we never do?”
“Then I’ll keep the porch light on anyway.”
For the first time, the little girl had no answer.
From the study doorway, Rocco Bellandi watched his new wife speak to his daughters as though she had been trained by grief itself. He had expected politeness. Obedience, perhaps. Fear, almost certainly.
He had not expected Delaney Monroe to face Piper’s suspicion with such quiet courage.
Carmela noticed him first. Her face changed only slightly, but Delaney caught it. She turned.
Rocco stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, his black shirt open at the throat, his expression unreadable.
“You should eat with them,” Delaney said.
Carmela inhaled sharply.
Piper looked stunned.
Rocco stared at Delaney.
“No one asked your opinion.”
“No,” Delaney said. “But you married me for it.”
A silence fell so deep it could have swallowed a confession.
Then Aria giggled.
It was a small sound, nervous and bright, but it broke something in the room. Piper shot her sister a look. Carmela quickly busied herself with the breadbasket.
Rocco did not smile.
But he walked to the table.
He took the chair at the head, the one that had remained empty since Isabella’s death, and sat down as though lowering himself into enemy territory.
Piper watched him with wide eyes.
Aria whispered, “Daddy, you’re having soup.”
“So it appears.”
Delaney picked up her spoon again.
For fifteen minutes, no one said much. But Rocco remained at the table. He tasted the soup. He passed Aria the rolls. When Piper asked if he remembered her spelling test tomorrow, he looked genuinely pained before admitting he did not.
Piper’s disappointment cut through the air.
Delaney stepped in gently. “What words?”
Piper hesitated.
Then she listed them.
By dessert, Delaney had turned the words into a game. Aria got three wrong and laughed. Piper got all of them right and pretended not to enjoy being praised.
Rocco watched the scene in silence.
Later that night, Delaney stood alone in the guest room that was now called hers. The bed was enormous. The sheets smelled of lavender. A silk robe hung in the closet with the tags still attached. Someone had placed her suitcase on a velvet bench, and its cheap fabric looked almost ashamed to be there.
She opened it anyway.
Grant’s wedding album sat on top.
She touched the cover.
For four years, she had believed marriage meant holding someone’s hand through the worst parts of life. Now she was married to a stranger whose home had reinforced doors, locked rooms and men stationed outside in black coats.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Delaney opened the door.
Aria stood in the hallway clutching a stuffed rabbit.
“Can I ask you something?” the child whispered.
“Of course.”
“Do you know lullabies?”
Delaney’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Mommy used to sing when Piper had bad dreams. Piper says she doesn’t have bad dreams anymore, but she does.”
Delaney glanced down the hall.
Piper’s bedroom door was cracked open. A thin line of light spilled across the floor.
“Does she want me to come in?”
Aria shook her head. “She wants you to go away forever.”
Delaney almost laughed, but the child looked so serious that she didn’t.
“Then I’ll sit outside the door,” Delaney said.
And she did.
She sat on the hallway carpet in a borrowed robe, singing softly through the cracked door while snow tapped against the windows.
Inside the room, Piper Bellandi lay awake with tears in her eyes, pretending not to listen.
Downstairs, Rocco stood at the bottom of the staircase, hearing the song float through his silent house for the first time in four years.
May you like
He closed his eyes.
And for one dangerous second, he allowed himself to hope.
