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“Did Abby tell you anything about this Nicholas guy?” Luke asks, intervening smoothly. “Anything about where they went or what they might have done?”

This time when Susan glances at her husband, it’s with a furtive expression that tells me they haven’t yet had this particular discussion.

“Abby told me they traveled to South America together. She said that Nicholas spoke Spanish and that he had enough work to support them both.”

In South America?

Luke and I exchange a look.

Drugs.It has to be. Only dealing would give them that kind of cash.

“I got the impression that he...” Susan looks uncomfortable. “Well, Abby said they split up because they wanted different things.”

“But you thought it was something else,” I say, watching her.

She bites her lip, a gesture so like Abby’s it makes my heart clench. “I don’t think it ended well. I don’t know the details,” she adds hastily, glancing at her stony-faced husband. “All I know is that after they broke up, Abby went to Spain. She said she was there for a couple of years, doing some classes at an art college, but that she’d overstayed herstudent visa and couldn’t go back again, or at least for a while.”

I’d love to believe that’s the reason she wasn’t planning to come back.

I swallow my regrets. “And that was all she said?”

Susan’s face brightens. “She mentioned a friend named Darya. Apparently she was bridesmaid at her wedding.”

I nod. “I work with Roman, Darya’s husband. They don’t know anything,” I add, seeing the hope in her face. “Abby told us all that she needed a few months to herself, back in Australia. She asked us not to... pressure her.”

And you were stupid enough to agree.

I try to push away the corrosive guilt.

Pete’s snort makes me glance at him. He glares at me across the table. “So she ran, and you thought if you pushed her, she wouldn’t come back, right?”

“Peter—” Susan frowns, her voice impatient.

“Come on, Susan.” His voice is hard. “It’s Abby’s MO, and we both know it.”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Not this time. I keep telling you, Pete. There’s no way she would have stolen that car and run out on us. Not again. She was sorry for the hurt she caused us last time.”

“Sorry!” He pushes his chair back angrily and stalks to the sink, where he stands with his hands on his hips, staring out over the dusty paddocks.

After a minute of awkward silence, I realize he isn’t going to speak again, so I do.

“It was my fault.”

That makes them all turn and look at me. Even Pete.

“I got—caught up in business,” I say slowly. “And I was away a lot. Abby wanted us to have a different life. She wanted to come back to Australia, to her family, because she thought maybe this was the life she wanted.”

I interlace my fingers on the table, staring down at them, trying not to remember that fucking letter.

“I thought she must have decided to stay here. Without me.” The words feel bitter in my mouth. “Darya was sure I was wrong. She and Abby... they’re close. Really close. Darya had a baby recently, and Abby promised she’d be back for the birth. When she didn’t come back, or answer any of Darya’s calls after the baby was born, Darya was convinced something was wrong.”

And I didn’t fucking listen.

“The baby.” Susan nods, her face sad. “She mentioned that. She said Darya had asked her to be godmother, but she didn’t think it was fair to be a godmother to a baby she wouldn’t ever see.”

Wouldn’teversee?

It’s suddenly hard to breathe.