Chapter 06

Callie's POV

Nobody in that room moved.

The man in the doorway did not seem to notice or care. He walked in like he had all the time in the world and crossed directly to where I was standing and stopped in front of me with those eyes that had not changed in six years.

Then he did something nobody else in that room had done all evening.

He looked past me.

He looked at Lily.

And he crouched down.

Right there in the middle of the exhibition room in his expensive suit he got down to her level and looked at her properly. Not the way adults look at children when they are being polite. The way you look at someone you actually want to see.

"Is this your rabbit?" he asked.

Lily looked at him for a moment. Assessing. She was very particular about who she trusted and she took her time about it.

"His name is Mr. Rabbit," she said.

"That is an excellent name." He said it seriously. "Very clear. No confusion about what he is."

Lily considered this. "That is what I thought too."

He smiled. Then he stood and looked at me.

"Michael Reyes," he said. Loud enough that the people nearest to us could hear it clearly. "We knew each other before all of this. You were the best thing about the year we met Callie."

The room absorbed this information in the way rooms absorb things that are more interesting than what was happening before.

Before I could respond Derek was there.

He moved fast for someone who had been standing on the other side of the room. One moment he was beside Vanessa. The next he was between me and Michael with his shoulders set and his jaw tight and something in his eyes that I had never quite seen there before.

"My daughter does not need strange men crouching in front of her," he said. His voice was controlled but only just. "And my wife does not get to bring people like this into a room where Lily is present."

"Your wife," Michael said.

Not a question. Just two words repeated back in a tone that made Derek's jaw tighten further.

"That is what I said."

Michael looked at him the way you look at weather. Noting it. Not particularly concerned by it.

Vanessa chose that moment to speak.

"I have to say." Her voice carried beautifully across the space between us. Warm and wondering and perfectly poisonous. "I always thought there was something behind the urgency for this divorce." She touched Derek's arm lightly. "Now I wonder if we understand the full picture."

Several heads turned.

A woman near the juice table leaned toward the person beside her.

Derek turned to me with something cold and final in his expression.

"Is this why?" His voice dropped. "All of it. The conditions. The delays. You have been—"

"Do not finish that sentence," I said.

"I will finish whatever sentence I want." He stepped closer. "You do not get to parade men through my daughter's life and then stand there looking at me like I am the problem."

"Derek." I kept my voice completely even. "You have not visited your daughter once since she was diagnosed. You removed her name from your will. You let your girlfriend cancel her medical appointment." I held his gaze. "And you are standing in this room right now making this about you."

His eyes went flat.

Michael reached into his jacket pocket and produced a card. Clean white. Simple. He held it out toward me without looking at Derek at all.

"Call me if you need anything," he said. "No strings. No conditions."

I reached for it.

Derek's hand moved faster.

He took the card from between my fingers and tore it once. Clean and deliberate. Then he held the two pieces and looked at me with something that was not quite anger and not quite fear and was more dangerous than either.

"If you contact him," he said quietly. "I will make sure you regret it. And it will have nothing to do with money."

The room was completely silent.

Lily was watching her father from beside her painting with Mr. Rabbit held tight against her chest and her eyes very wide and very still.

Michael stood exactly where he was. Not moving. Not reacting. Just watching Derek with an expression that was almost patient.

I looked at the two torn pieces of card in Derek's hand.

Then I looked at him.

"You should be careful Derek," I said quietly. "Threats only work on people who still have something to lose."

Nobody spoke.

Derek stared at me like he was looking at someone he did not recognize.

And for the first time in four years I did not look away first.