And suddenly he began to cry.
Not quietly.
His entire body shook.
“I remember this…”
I dropped to my knees beside the tub.
“You’re my father.”
The words sounded impossible.
But Lucas looked at me, and something in his eyes broke open.
“Mariana…”
That was the name only my father had ever called me.
Not Grace.
Mariana.
My childhood name.
I grabbed his hand.
“Dad?”
He squeezed my fingers.
“Baby girl.”
I sobbed.
Behind us, the bathroom door opened.
Julian stood there.
He wasn’t surprised.
