Jalissa placed her lips on the top of her baby's soft downy curls. He had silky black hair more like Dante's than like her reddish brown tresses. He looked like Dante—as if a clone machine had created a little replica of the man.

Another tear dripped from her eyes and splashed the blanket, which swaddled her newborn.

Dante hadn't come.

She'd called him yet again, leaving the message that the baby had been born. It had been weeks since she'd talked to him. ...