I sighed. “I’m pretty sure I’m right. All the facts line up—plus, I got that diary from Evelyn.”

“How did Evelyn get it?”

“I have no idea.” I shrugged. “Olivia mentioned once that Evelyn and Hudson’s ex had a falling out because Evelyn took something from her. Maybe what she stole was the diary.”

“Alright.” He put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go brush your hair and wash your face, and I’m going to go next door and get a legal pad and two bottles of wine. When I come back, you’re going to tell me all the facts, and we’ll see if I come to the same conclusion. If I do, we’ll figure out your game plan.”

I slouched into the couch deeper. “I don’t want a game plan.”

Fisher grabbed both my hands and pulled me to standing. “Don’t care. When you first started suspecting that Aiden was cheating, I blew it off. I should’ve sat you down right away and listened and come up with a game plan to get to the bottom of things. I didn’t, and you spent months stressing and suffering. We’re not going down that road again. We need resolution.” Fisher eyed the top of my head. “Plus, I think there might be a rat or two nesting in here. So go brush. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I sulked, so Fisher walked me to my bedroom. He kissed my forehead and pushed me toward the bathroom door. “Go.”

Ten minutes later, we met on the couch. Fisher nodded to an empty wrapper. “You ate that entire thing of chocolate that was delivered?”

I frowned. The morning after I’d run out of Hudson’s house, a beautiful bouquet of exotic flowers had been delivered, along with an enormous, five-pound Hershey bar. Hudson’s note had read, You make me feel better than any amount of chocolate. I’d eaten the entire thing over the last few days while wondering if that statement would ever be true again. No amount of anandamide could get me out of my funk.

“Don’t remind me,” I said. “I feel awful. Hudson has to be freaking out about why I’ve disappeared and keep avoiding his calls and messages. But I can’t look him in the eyes with what I know. I can’t, Fisher. I’m crazy about him. I’m hurting him right now, but it’s going to be so much worse when I tell him.”

Fisher squeezed my hand. “Alright, honey. But you did the right thing. This isn’t the type of thing you spring on someone if you’re not absolutely certain. And once you’re sure, you need to figure out how to break the news gently.”

“Fisher…” I shook my head. “There is no gently. We’re talking about his daughter.”

“Okay. But you need to relax a little, so we can go through all the details. Let’s have some wine, at least. You looked less nervous telling four-hundred guests how you met the bride at the wedding of a woman you’d never seen before.” Fisher poured two large glasses of merlot and sat up straight, his pen ready. He looked very much in lawyer mode. “Let’s get started. When did Evelyn give you this diary?”

“It was a birthday present—around eighteen months ago. I remember being surprised she had gotten me anything, because I didn’t even think she knew it was my birthday.” I thought back. “You’d sent me flowers. When Evelyn saw them, she asked what they were for. I said it was my birthday, and then she went into her room and came out with the diary. It wasn’t wrapped or anything.”

“Is there any indication of years in the diary—from television programs or anything?”

I shook my head. “I read it at least a dozen times from cover to cover over the last few days. I didn’t find any.”

“Okay.” Fisher scribbled down eighteen months on his legal pad and underscored it with two bold slashes. “And when did Hudson and his ex get divorced?”

“He said Charlie was about two. So that would be four years ago.”

“So the diary could’ve been written anywhere from a year and a half ago to a hundred years ago?”

I shrugged. “I guess. But the pages aren’t yellowed or anything, so I don’t think it’s too old.”

“Okay…so the timeline works, but it would probably work for a million other scenarios, too. Let’s move on to names. Your woman’s name was Alexandria. Do we know that’s Hudson’s ex-wife’s name for sure?”

I nodded. “Hudson had only ever referred to her as Lexi, but the other night when Charlie mentioned her full name—I asked what her mom’s name was. It’s Alexandria—and, by the way, she also kept a diary. Hudson once mentioned that in passing.”

“Okay. That’s two names in common. What about Hudson? Does the diary ever say his name?”

I shook my head. “She only refers to him as H, which I assumed while reading stood for husband. But obviously that could stand for Hudson. And the guy she was having an affair with is her husband’s best friend, and she calls him J. Hudson’s best friend’s name is Jack.”

Fisher scribbled some more notes. “There’re thousands of people named Jack. It’s a common name. I bet Alexandria is, too. Again, all circumstantial.”

“But she wrote down her daughter’s name the day she was born—Laken Charlotte.”

Fisher’s brows pulled together. “And Hudson’s kid’s name is definitely Laken Charlotte?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s not such a common combination, obviously. I’ve never met anyone named Laken, but I’m sure there are quite a few in New York. We have more than eight-million people who live here.”

“There are one-thousand-six-hundred-and-sixty-two people named Laken in the United States who are under the age of thirteen, according to the Census Bureau. I looked it up.”

“Shit. Okay. Well, that’s still more than sixteen-hundred people.”

“But when I put in the first name and the last name—Laken Rothschild—they estimate that there is only one.”

“Estimate? The Census Bureau isn’t sure.”

“They tell you based on old data. It’s more of a statistical-type thing than an exact count. But basically, it’s not a popular name combination.”

“Alright, what else?”

“Alexandria was married at the New York Public Library. So were Hudson and Lexi.”

“Ugh. This isn’t looking so good.”

“Alexandria and H also lived on the Upper West Side, same as Lexi and Hudson.”

Fisher blew out a deep breath. “So there’re definitely a lot of coincidences. But I once read about a set of twins separated at birth. Both were named James by their adoptive parents, and both grew up to be cops and marry women with the same name. They also had kids with the same name, then got divorced and married women with the same name for their second marriages. They didn’t realize any of it until they met later in life. So strange shit can happen.”

I sighed. “I guess. But what do I do? Say, ‘Hey, by the way, I think there’s a possibility your daughter isn’t yours? Oh, and she might be your lifelong best friend Jack’s because he was secretly banging your ex-wife’?”

Fisher shook his head. “Jesus.” He knocked back the rest of his glass of wine. “I don’t think you have any other choice.”