All Chapters of The Billionaire Ex's Secret Baby: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Tracy POVNoah announced on Thursday evening that he was going to learn my half of the song.“Both hands,” he said. “Your melody and the Kingston tune. If Elias plays the secret ending on Saturday, I want to be able to join in.”“You know one tune,” I said.“I know one tune very well. I’m confident I can learn a second.”He sat down at the piano in our living room like a man about to address a board of directors. I sat beside him on the bench and put his right hand on the keys. His fingers were long and strong, and nobody had ever taught them to be gentle. I moved them into place one at a time.“Thumb here. Not that thumb. The other thumb.”“They’re the same thumb.”“They are not.”He played the first four notes. They sounded like someone dropping a tray of silverware. Samuel, who was lying on the rug with his dragon book, lifted his head and gave his father a look of sorrowful patience.“Dad, that’s the wrong one.”“I was close.”“You were in the next house.”Noah tried again, counti

Tracy POVI told Marisol on Sunday morning, in the kitchen, before the rest of the house was awake. She was at the stove stirring oatmeal, and I stood beside her with my hands wrapped around a mug, trying to find the right words. I had rehearsed several. They all disappeared.“The woman at the park wants you to come on Saturday,” I said. “She asked for you by name. She said you’ve waited as long as she has.”Marisol’s spoon stopped moving. She looked into the pot for a long moment, and then she turned the burner down very low.“Did she say why?”“No. I wanted you to know you can say no. You don’t owe her anything, and you don’t owe us anything either.”“That’s kind of you.” She set the spoon on the counter. “But I’m not afraid of her, Tracy. I’m only surprised that I’m not more surprised.”Noah came in just then with his hair still damp from the shower, and I saw his face slide into planning mode before he had taken three steps. He had caught the end of the sentence. “I’ll arrange a c

Tracy POVOn Wednesday evening, Noah told me to wear comfortable shoes and not to ask questions. I assumed it meant a restaurant with candles and a waiter who would describe the bread. I was dressed for it, in my good green dress, when he handed me a laundry basket full of Samuel’s sheets and led me out the door.“I’m confused,” I said, in the elevator.“That’s the idea.”Marisol had waved us off from the sofa with Samuel asleep against her side, looking very pleased with herself, so she was clearly in on it. We drove for ten minutes and stopped in front of a small, brightly lit laundromat on Ninth Street. A hand-lettered sign in the window said OPEN LATE. Inside, a dozen washers hummed in a long row, and the air smelled of warm cotton and fabric softener.I stopped in the doorway. My throat went tight.“Why here?” I asked.Noah set the basket on a folding table. “You told me about the laundromat under your apartment. You said it was the only warm place in the building at three in the

Tracy POVNoah came home from the cemetery quieter than he had left. He ate dinner without saying much, helped Samuel build a block tower, and listened to the whole plot of the dragon book twice. It was only after Samuel was asleep that he sat down on the edge of our bed and told me about the butterscotch on the stone.“Every Friday,” he said. “For ten years. The groundskeeper told me she never missed.”“That’s a long time to keep a promise.”“I never went once.” He stared at his hands. “She went every week, and I went to the funeral and never came back.”I sat beside him and took one of his hands in both of mine. “You went today.”“That’s what you always say.”“It’s always true.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “You can’t go back and visit her for ten years. But you can go next Friday, and the one after. Maybe we can bring Samuel.”He was quiet for a long moment. Then he let out a breath, and I felt the weight in his shoulders ease. He turned and kissed my forehead, and then m

Tracy POVNoah told me at six the next morning, before the coffee was made. He sat on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand and said, “Ilse called last night. I let you sleep.”“Is something wrong?”“No. Something is quiet.” He took a breath. “The woman in the drawing, the sixth figure. She heard about it, and she’d like to come to the carousel on Saturday. Not to talk to anyone. She wants to stand by the trees and watch the boys ride.”I sat up. For a moment I listened to my own heartbeat. “What did you say?”“That she’s welcome. I told Ilse we wouldn’t look, and we wouldn’t say a word.” He paused. “She asked me to tell you something else. She sings the same lullaby too.”I looked at the window, where gray light was coming through the curtains. A year ago, if someone had told me that a stranger knew my lullaby, I would have been afraid. I waited for the fear to arrive, and it didn’t. What came instead was a slow warmth, like a hand resting gently on my back.“Okay,” I said.