"The other one. Please. Give Mom and me two minutes." Lucia hesitated, then ran upstairs again, slower this time.
The moment her footsteps disappeared, Miguel looked at Sofia. "Who is Daniel?" He did not actually know the name yet. He had only the initials. The guess landed because Sofia's eyes widened. That was enough.
"Miguel," she said. "Who is Daniel?" She closed her eyes briefly. "Daniel Mercer."
Miguel knew the name, though only faintly. Daniel was a commercial insurance broker who had helped Sofia's small interior-design business secure coverage when she expanded from freelance consultations into staging model homes for builders. Miguel had met him once, maybe eighteen months earlier, at a fundraiser held by the local chamber of commerce. Tall, clean-cut, divorced, friendly without being memorable. Miguel remembered Daniel shaking his hand and saying Sofia was one of the only clients who submitted paperwork on time.
"How many times has he slept here?" Miguel asked. Sofia gripped the edge of the counter. "Can we not do this standing in the kitchen while Lucia is upstairs?"
"How many?" "I don't know." Miguel stared at her. "That is not an answer a person forgets."