Chapter 20

One year after my daughter was born, we celebrated her first birthday in Odette’s garden. This was not a wedding. Rhys had not hidden a ring inside the cake. No one had arranged a surprise proposal beneath the climbing roses. It was only a birthday. That made it perfect. Yellow ribbons moved between the trees. A long table held sandwiches, fruit, and a small cake covered in uneven white frosting. My daughter had already pressed both hands into it. A streak of frosting crossed her cheek. Odette...