“Claire, listen—”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Daniel. You knew about Greta. And you let me believe we’d met by chance?”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“For eight years?”
“I know.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to sit there and act like this was some little secret.”
Owen lowered his head.
Then he said something that changed everything again.
“Daniel didn’t abandon you because he wanted to.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He was in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Owen rubbed his forehead.
“Financial trouble. He’d borrowed money from people he shouldn’t have. He was afraid they would come after you.”
“Then why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he write?”
“He should have. There was no excuse for disappearing.”
“Where is he now?”
Owen looked at me.
“He’s been gone for five years.”
I sank into the chair.
For years, I’d imagined confronting Daniel.
I’d imagined asking him how he could leave his daughter.
I’d imagined him trying to explain himself.
Now I would never get that conversation.
But there was something else.
Something that still didn’t make sense.
“Why did you say you might be Greta’s father?”
Owen went pale.
“I didn’t mean biologically.”
I stared at him.
“Then what did you mean?”
He looked ashamed.
“I meant that I’ve been the closest thing she’s had to a father. And I was terrified that if anything happened to you, I’d have no right to help her.”
My anger rose again.
“So you decided to tell the camp you were her father?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me?”
He nodded.
“I was wrong.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped against the floor.
“You think?”
Owen didn’t defend himself.
And somehow, that made the situation even harder.
Because the man sitting in front of me wasn’t a stranger.
He was someone who had loved my daughter for years.
But he had built that relationship on a lie.
I walked to the window.
Outside, children were crossing the campgrounds in colorful groups.
Some carried water bottles.
Others were laughing and chasing one another.
Somewhere among them was Greta.
My little girl.
The person I had spent ten years trying to protect.
“Does Greta know?” I asked.
“No.”
“Has she ever met Daniel?”
