Chapter 7 - THE LETTER THAT MADE MARLO WONDER IF SHE HAD HATED THE WRONG MAN
Marlo did not sleep well after seeing the fake letter.
Not because it changed facts.
Thaddeus had still stopped searching.
He had still gone back to work.
He had still accepted a message saying she wanted no contact without confirming directly.
But for three years, Marlo had imagined him consciously reading about pregnancy and choosing silence.
That man was easy to hate.
The real man was harder.
He had called twice.
He had asked his office about her.
He had been lied to.
Then he stopped.
Failure, yes.
Cruel abandonment by knowledge?
No.
Marlo hated nuance.
At breakfast, Oliver pushed cereal around bowl.
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“Daddy says whales sleep.”
“Some do.”
“With eyes?”
“I don’t know.”
“He knows.”
“Apparently your father is whale expert now.”
Oliver grinned.
The word father no longer made her chest tighten every time.
That was progress.
At work, Priya noticed distraction.
“Donovan?”
Marlo sighed.
“Which one?”
“Good point.”
She told Priya enough.
Not legal details.
The fake letter.
Priya listened.
Then:
“Do you want him?”
Marlo nearly dropped pen.
“What?”
“Not marry. Relax.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked offended.”
“I am.”
Priya smiled.
“Do you want him in your life beyond Oliver?”
Marlo stared at laundry schedule.
“I don’t know.”
“Then that is answer today.”
Simple.
Marlo had spent years making decisions under pressure.
Pregnancy.
Rent.
Childcare.
Abandonment.
Now she could afford not to know.
That evening, Thaddeus took Oliver to beach.
Marlo joined because Oliver wanted both.
They built sandcastle.
Thaddeus terrible at it.
Oliver bossy.
“Daddy, wall goes here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, not sir. Oliver.”
Marlo laughed.
Thaddeus looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Something old returned.
The balcony.
Coffee.
One reckless night.
Dangerous.
She looked away.
After Oliver fell asleep in stroller, they walked.
Thaddeus spoke first.
“I’m sorry.”
“For castle?”
“For stopping after two calls.”
Marlo stiffened.
“Don’t do this because fake letter makes you feel guilty.”
“It’s not new guilt.”
He looked ocean.
“I’ve had three years to think since I found him.”
Three months? Since return maybe several months. Fine.
“Every time another intercepted message appears, part of me wants to say, ‘See? I tried.’”
He paused.
“But that would be dishonest.”
Marlo looked.
“I had your full name.”
“Yes.”
“I knew hotel.”
“Yes.”
“I could have hired someone to locate you.”
“You would’ve looked creepy.”
He laughed softly.
“Maybe.”
Then:
“I didn’t because I believed the rejection.”
“Yes.”
“And because part of me was relieved.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“I was overwhelmed.”
Seaborne acquisition.
His father’s declining health? Maybe not established. We can add he was caring for company crisis.
“Life was complicated.”
“That’s not excuse.”
“No.”
“I told myself one night should stay one night.”
Marlo’s face hardened.
“So you wanted out.”
“At the time?”
He forced himself.
“Yes.”
There.
Truth.
“I did.”
Her eyes burned.
Then:
“But I didn’t know there was a child.”
“No.”
“And if I had known?”
He looked at her.
“I would have come.”
She believed him.
That was the problem.
Marlo sat on seawall.
“So maybe I spent three years hating you for wrong reason.”
Thaddeus sat beside, not too close.
“You had plenty correct reasons.”
She laughed despite tears.
Then:
“I was so angry.”
“You should’ve been.”
“I thought you read letters.”
“I know.”
“I imagined you throwing them away.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“I hated you every time Oliver got sick.”
His eyes filled.
“Every daycare bill.”
“Yes.”
“Every time someone asked about his father.”
“Yes.”
“I told myself you chose every one of those moments.”
Thaddeus looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
She wiped face.
“I don’t know where to put that anger now.”
He answered carefully.
“You don’t have to put it anywhere.”
Good.
No demand to forgive.
Then Oliver stirred.
They stopped.
At car, Thaddeus asked:
“Can I ask something that has nothing to do with trust?”
“Maybe.”
“Dinner.”
Marlo stared.
“With Oliver?”
“No.”
“Then absolutely not.”
He smiled sadly.
“Fair.”
She walked away.
Three days later, she called.
“Dinner.”
Thaddeus nearly dropped phone.
“What?”
“One.”
“Yes.”
“Not date.”
“Understood.”
“Public.”
“Of course.”
“No expensive ridiculous restaurant.”
He thought.
“I know a taco place.”
She laughed.
“You?”
“Oliver has expanded me.”
They went.
Tacos.
Plastic table.
No photographers.
They talked about three years between.
Thaddeus had expanded company.
Lost his father? Let's say father died two years ago, perhaps why Eleanor held more trust control. We can establish.
“My father died eighteen months after Carmel.”
Marlo softened.
“I didn’t know.”
“How would you?”
Fair.
He told her grief.
How Eleanor became more involved after.
How he fired Celeste when he discovered unrelated intercepted correspondence from a board member and personal friend.
He had no idea Marlo connected.
Marlo talked about pregnancy.
Emergency room when she thought miscarriage at ten weeks.
Working laundry when feet swollen.
Mrs. Henley bringing casseroles.
Oliver born after nineteen hours labor.
Thaddeus cried quietly.
Not performative.
He had missed.
Nothing could fix.
Then he asked:
“Can I see newborn pictures sometime?”
Marlo froze.
Then:
“Not tonight.”
“Okay.”
He survived.
Two weeks later, she brought album.
They sat in her apartment after Oliver asleep.
Thaddeus turned pages slowly.
Oliver in hospital cap.
First bath.
First Christmas.
First birthday.
Thaddeus stopped at photograph of Marlo asleep on couch with baby on chest.
Mrs. Henley had taken.
“You look exhausted.”
“I was.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly.”
He closed album.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Then Marlo realized she no longer wanted him to say it every page.
“You can stop apologizing for tonight.”
He nodded.
They kept looking.
At end, Thaddeus touched cover.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Their hands met.
This time neither moved immediately.
Thaddeus looked at her.
“Can I kiss you?”
Marlo’s heart stopped.
Then she pulled hand back.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
No wounded ego.
No argument.
He stood.
“Goodnight.”
After door closed, Marlo leaned against it.
Her heart pounded.
Not because he asked.
May you like
Because he had heard no.
And somehow that made wanting to say yes someday far more dangerous.
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