“Why haven’t we heard back from Emmitt yet?” Libby asked, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Ever since he met Evie he’s been chilled out. He’s hardly taking any of his old jobs. He should have an answer by now. Aria’s going crazy.”

“It’s fine,” Aria lied. The last three days had been excruciatingly long. She and Monroe had tried to pass the time sight-seeing and hanging out with their new friends. But every free minute passed slowly, and Aria felt an urgency she couldn’t explain. She wanted to meet her father. She wanted to make amends.

“Have you given more thought to your mother?” Mathew asked, changing the subject.

“What do you mean?” Aria asked, lying on the blanket and staring at the sky. The guys had taken a lunch break from work and joined them at the park for a picnic.

“The documents stated your father was granted a large settlement from your mother if and when she was apprehended. Besides the charges she’ll face, she’ll also be expected to make financial restitution.”

“She has no money,” Aria explained. “Or at least she didn’t six year ago. Who knows what she has now? I doubt my father will care about the money. He’ll just be happy to see me.”

“Right,” Mathew said, sounding unconvinced. “He may want to pursue your mother. And if he doesn’t, the police likely will. I want to make sure you’re prepared for that.”

“I’m prepared for anything,” Aria said adamantly. “I’m in the angry stage right now. I’ve never let myself go there. I’ve always given my mother a free pass because she was protecting me. She did what was hard in the face of real danger in order to give me a better life. Now that’s gone, and I’m left with she used me as a pawn to hurt my father. He and I have been robbed of important years together. I rotted away in that hellhole for no reason at all.”

“Oh,” Libby said, reaching for her phone, “I almost forgot about that hellhole. I have some news from Randolph. Look at these photographs. This is Javier’s new apartment. He settled in south Florida, and his family met him there last week. This is all of them reuniting at the airport. He doesn’t have to worry about gangs anymore. His mother was so excited; they’re all starting fresh.”

“That’s wonderful,” Aria exclaimed as she looked closely at each picture. “It looks like a beautiful apartment. I hope they’re happy.”

“He said to tell you he is grateful to you and Monroe,” Libby said, looking fondly at Monroe, who was busy checking email on his phone. “These big tough guys always end up being the kindest in the end. Once we show them the way.”

Mathew was now pacing as he held his phone to his ear and grunted replies.

Jessica handed Aria a plate full of freshly cut watermelon. “These guys never stop working. We’re going to fix that next. They can’t all keep this pace. We should plan a big vacation for all six of us. Something before the baby comes.”

“No beach resorts,” Aria joked, and it wasn’t until Mathew came back to the blanket looking sick that they stopped laughing.

“What is it?” Jessica asked, knowing the man well enough to see how serious it was. “Is everything all right?”

“No,” he replied simply as he looked at his phone as if it could take back the bad news it had just given. “Aria, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“What?” Aria, gulped, instantly feeling hot and dizzy.

“That was Emmitt. He had been looking high and low for your father, but he said he’s not used to finding average people. You know?”

“I guess,” Aria replied, her heart thudding loudly.

“He looks for criminals, dignitaries, political figures, military people. That’s what he does. Your dad, he operated a forklift. Just a middle class, nice guy. So it took longer to find him.”

“But he did?” Monroe asked impatiently. “He found him?”

“He did,” Mathew said, looking over at James and exchanging a knowing look. A pleading help me friend kind of look.

“He’s dead,” James said, filling in the blank even without hearing it first-hand. From the expression on his best friend’s face, he could tell. “Emmitt found him, but he’s dead.”

“Yes,” Mathew apologized. “Pancreatic cancer two years ago. Emmitt was able to track down his last known address and where he was buried. He’s sending a newspaper clipping of the obituary. He apologized for taking so long. He wanted to be one hundred percent sure before he broke the news.”

“No,” Aria said, shaking her head and waving Monroe off as he came to her. “He’s not dead. Your brother is wrong. He wouldn’t even be fifty years old. Scott Laurence is a very common name, I’m sure.” She paced around the blanket and backed away from anyone who tried to come close to her.

“He’s positive,” Mathew said, somberly. “He validated it through multiple sources. I’m sorry, Aria. Your father is dead.”

“Dead,” she gasped, clutching at her throat as though she were choking. The world around her had transformed into an enormous vacuum; she felt everything being pulled from her. Gone were the images she’d conjured up of her emotional reunion. Gone were the stories they’d tell each other. There would be no laughter about the mannerisms they had in common. It would never be. None of it.

“Aria . . .” Monroe said gently, though he didn’t reach for her. “We can go Philadelphia. We can find more about who he was.”

His words felt like droplets of water on a raging fire. There was nothing that could extinguish it. She lost her breath suddenly and felt the earth beneath her feet give way. Monroe caught her elbow and pulled her in to his body, holding her fiercely as she wept. She cried with her whole body, with her whole heart. When she hit her knees, Monroe did too, whispering something she was sure was meant to bring comfort. But his voice was too far off.

Aria rested her head on Monroe’s chest and clung to him as though she would be sucked into oblivion if she let go. “He’s dead,” she said in a raspy whisper. “And I have to live with that.”