Chương 7
Evan gave her a hard look.
“You are not my therapist.”
“No. Therapists charge less.”
Despite himself, Evan made a short sound through his nose.
Paige continued.
“Today you cancel the wedding, get the guests out, make sure the boys understand they are safe, and stop having life-changing conversations in rooms where they can walk in.”
Claire looked toward the door.
“Where are they?”
“With Rachel.”
“Can I see them?”
Evan’s answer came too fast.
“No.”
Claire went still.
Paige turned to him.
Evan knew the word had been wrong before either woman spoke.
He rubbed his jaw.
“I mean not yet.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“They’re my children.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t punish me with them.”
“I’m trying not to punish anyone.”
“You just told me I couldn’t see them.”
“Because I don’t trust what I’ll do if you’re in the room.”
“That isn’t their fault.”
“No.”
“Then—”
“Enough.”
Paige’s voice cut through both of them.
She looked at Evan.
“Take ten minutes.”
Then at Claire.
“You too.”
Neither moved.
Paige pointed at opposite doors.
“I am billing somebody for this stupidity.”
Claire stood first.
She walked out.
Evan remained in the chair.
Paige waited until the door closed.
“You almost did exactly what you accused her of doing.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Using the boys to manage your fear.”
His face went cold.
“She lied to me about who their biological father is.”
“Yes.”
“My brother is their father.”
“Biologically.”
“Stop correcting the word.”
“I’m correcting the category because right now your brain is turning one fact into every fact.”
He stared at her.
Paige leaned forward.
“You have three children in the next room who call you Dad. You have been their parent every day of their lives. You are allowed to be shattered. You are allowed to end the relationship. You are allowed to hate your brother for a while. You are not allowed to make scared five-year-olds audition for your love because adults lied to you.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Then don’t start.”
He looked away.
The silence lasted long enough for Evan to hear workers stacking chairs outside.
Finally he said, “I don’t know how to look at them without seeing him.”
Paige’s expression softened slightly.
“That may happen for a while.”
“I hate that.”
“Then hate it privately.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“What if it never stops?”
“You don’t need an answer today.”
“I need one.”
“No. You want one.”
Evan looked at the report.
For six years, fatherhood had felt like the least ambiguous part of his life.
The boys had arrived early on a Tuesday morning after thirty-one hours of labor and an emergency surgery. Evan had followed three bassinets between two floors of the hospital because he was terrified somebody would separate the wrong baby from the wrong bracelet.
He had labeled bottles with colored tape.
He had tracked feedings in a spreadsheet until Claire threatened to throw his laptop out the window.
He had learned the difference between three kinds of crying.
At two in the morning he sometimes still got the boys confused if the hallway was dark, but they laughed about that now.
None of it had contained probabilities.
“You know what the worst part is?” he asked.
Paige waited.
“I’m angry at them.”
She did not react.
He swallowed.
“For looking like him now.”
“That’s not the worst part.”
“It feels like it.”
“The worst part would be pretending you aren’t and then making them pay for it in ways you refuse to notice.”
Evan stared at the floor.
Paige stood.
“Go change clothes.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like a man whose wedding was just canceled.”
“My wedding was just canceled.”
“Exactly.”
He almost told her to leave.
Instead he went upstairs.
The bathroom door was still open.
The marble counter had been cleaned except for a faint fingerprint where the report had landed. Claire’s clutch was gone. The white roses remained beside the sink.
Evan entered the bedroom and removed his vest.
Then the tie.
Then the white shirt.
He stood in front of the closet wearing trousers and an undershirt, unable to remember why he had gone there.
On the dresser sat three little silver cuff links in a black box.
He picked one up.
Owen had complained that morning that the fake buttonhole was cheating.
Evan had told him almost every elegant thing at a wedding involved some form of cheating.
The cuff link slid from his fingers and landed on the carpet.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
For several minutes he did nothing.
Downstairs, people were leaving.
He could hear car doors from the circular drive.
A child laughed somewhere outside.
His phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand.
He ignored it until the screen lit with his mother’s name.
Then he answered.
“What happened?”
No greeting.
That was his mother.
“The wedding is canceled.”
“I gathered that from the absence of a wedding.”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Is Claire pregnant?”
“What?”
“That was Susan’s theory.”
“Who is Susan?”
“My cousin.”
“I don’t know your cousin.”
“You met her at Christmas.”
“I was avoiding people at Christmas.”
“Evan.”
He closed his eyes.
“Mom, I can’t do this right now.”
Her voice changed.
“Are the boys okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
He looked at the dropped cuff link.
“No.”
“I’m coming upstairs.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Mom.”
A pause.
“All right.”
That surprised him.
Then she said, “But I’m taking the boys to my house tonight unless you tell me not to.”
Evan sat straighter.
“Why?”
“Because the adults in this house look like they’re about to burn it down.”
He stared toward the open bedroom door.
His first instinct was no.
Then he remembered Noah asking whether he was leaving tomorrow.
“Two hours,” he said.
“What?”
“Take them for two hours. Bring them back before bedtime.”
“You want them back here tonight?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Okay.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t ask them what happened.”
May you like
Her voice became very quiet.
“I won’t.”
