Page 105 of Stealing Home

“That happens.” Talia lowered her eyes, and Dom regretted the tone before he regretted the words. He wasn’t sure he regretted the words at all.

“Is she here?”

“She’s asleep upstairs.”

“Oh.” Talia looked toward the stairs, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. “Is she okay?”

The question dragged across every raw, invisible wound inside him. “She’s six months old. She’s healthy. She weighs fifteen pounds and hates socks. She’s trying to roll from her back to her stomach, then she gets angry halfway through and screams until I help her. She likes sweet potatoes and the song my mother sings to her over video calls.”

The details came out before he could stop them. There were so many things Talia didn’t know that he could have told her weeks ago if she had answered a single phone call.

Talia pressed her lips together. “I’m glad.”

Dom nodded toward the couch. “Sit down.”

He took the chair opposite her and placed the monitor on the coffee table where he could see it. Talia watched the movement before setting the envelope beside it.

“Those are my medical records from the pregnancy and delivery,” she said. “I wrote down my family’s medical history too. My mother helped me fill in what I didn’t know. There’s high blood pressure on my father’s side, and my grandmother had breast cancer. I included everything the clinic said might be important.”

Dom looked at the envelope but didn't reach for it. “Okay.”

“I have pictures too.” Her voice grew quieter. “From when she was born and a few from the weeks after.”

His chest tightened, and he glared at her. “You have pictures.” She nodded. “Send them.”

“I will.”

“All of them.”

Talia nodded again, and Dom leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wanted to ask for them now. He wanted to see how small she had been and whether she had made the same serious little face he knew so well.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Why now?”

Talia leaned back on the couch and looked down at her hands. “Because I finally got help.”

He waited for her to continue.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist, and I understand more about what was happening to me during the pregnancy and after Lucia was born.” She swallowed. “I understand why I panicked and kept thinking I would be trapped in a life I didn’t want.”

Hope tried to rise, and Dom crushed it before it could. “Has getting help changed what you want?”

“No.” Her voice shook, but her answer was the same as it had been months ago. “I still don’t want to be a mother.”

He thought those words would have hurt more than they did, but relief moved through him so quickly he felt lightheaded. He wanted Lucia protected. He wanted a permanent custody order. He wanted to never again be afraid that Talia would show up with a lawyer and try to take his daughter away.

He wanted Lucia to have parents who wanted her.

“Then why did you ask to see her?”

“Because she exists.” Talia wiped her eyes. “Because I spent months pretending I’d done the right thing. Getting better didn’t make me want a different life. It made me understand that what I did to you was cruel.”

Dom leaned back and crossed his arms. “You knew before she was born that you didn’t want her.”

“Yes.”

“And you knew she was mine, but you never told me.” Talia didn’t answer, and Dom stared at her in disbelief. The anger he’d been suppressing for six months rose so fast that it left a metallic tang on his tongue. “You had no right.”

Talia’s shoulders folded inward and she nodded without looking at him. “I know.”