Chương 6
Nolan stood up.
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Everything."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I thought I could make one mistake disappear if I just kept moving."
I looked at him.
"People aren't mistakes you hide, Nolan."
"I know."
"Children aren't mistakes."
"I know."
"My trust wasn't something you could put in a drawer until you decided what you wanted."
He nodded.
"I know."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said something I did not expect.
"I think my father was right."
I looked at him.
"About what?"
"About me."
The answer bothered me.
Because Everett was strict.
Sometimes too strict.
When Nolan was younger, he had told me stories about his father correcting everything.
His grades.
His posture.
His choices.
Nolan used to joke that he learned how to apologize before he learned how to relax.
"I spent my whole life trying to prove I wasn't like him," Nolan said.
"Like Everett?"
He nodded.
"He was never satisfied."
I looked toward the hallway.
"That doesn't excuse this."
"I know."
"But it explains something."
He looked surprised.
I continued.
"You spent so much time running from becoming your father that you never figured out who you wanted to be."
Nolan looked at me.
For once, he did not defend himself.
Maybe because the words landed somewhere he had avoided.
A sound came from the nursery.
Miles started crying.
The moment broke.
Nolan immediately moved toward the bassinet.
Then he stopped.
His hand hovered in the air.
He looked at me.
A small gesture.
A question without words.
I nodded.
He picked up our son.
The sight should have comforted me.
Instead, it hurt.
Because he looked natural.
Because he looked like he belonged.
Because betrayal did not erase love.
That was the cruelest part.
Nolan held Miles against his chest and walked slowly around the room.
"You know what scares me?" he whispered.
I did not answer.
"That he won't know me."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"My son."
His voice cracked slightly.
"Both of them."
He looked down.
"I know I hurt you."
"I know I might not get another chance with you."
"But I don't want them to grow up thinking their father was someone who left."
The anger inside me shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
Because that fear was real.
And because those boys deserved a father who understood that being present was more than showing up when it was convenient.
"You need to understand something," I said.
He looked at me.
"You don't get to be their father only when you are afraid of losing them."
His face tightened.
"I know."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You don't."
I pointed gently toward Miles.
"Being their father means showing up when it is uncomfortable."
"It means answering hard questions."
"It means accepting that they may be angry with you one day."
Nolan looked down at our son.
"I don't know if you will."
He looked hurt.
But he didn't argue.
That mattered.
After he left that afternoon, I opened the message from Kendra.
My finger hovered over the call button.
I knew nothing good would come from that conversation.
But I also knew something else.
There was a piece of this story that belonged to her.
And if I was going to rebuild my life, I needed to know what it had been built on.
My finger hovered over the call button.
I knew nothing good would come from that conversation.
But I also knew something else.
There was a piece of this story that belonged to her.
And if I was going to rebuild my life, I needed to know what it had been built on.
I pressed the button before I could change my mind.
The phone rang three times.
Then a woman answered.
"Hello?"
Her voice was quieter than I expected.
Not nervous.
Not angry.
Just tired.
I almost hung up.
Instead, I said, "This is Tessa."
There was a pause.
A long one.
Then she said, "I figured you would call eventually."
The words bothered me.
Not because they were cruel.
Because they sounded like she had been waiting for this moment.
"I need to understand what happened."
"I know."
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"I don't need a version where everyone feels better afterward."
Silence.
"I need the truth."
Kendra exhaled.
"Okay."
I sat at the kitchen table.
The same table where I had eaten breakfast with Nolan.
The same table where we had planned baby names.
The same table where I had believed my life was ordinary.
"When did you meet him?" I asked.
"Last March."
"That was when I was pregnant."
"I know."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"How did you know?"
"Because he told me."
The answer landed hard.
"He told you?"
"Yes."
I looked toward the nursery.
"He told you about me?"
"Yes."
"And he told you he was leaving."
"Yes."
The room felt colder.
"Did he tell you we were having twins?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
I looked down.
I did not know what answer I wanted.
Part of me wanted her to be lying.
Part of me wanted her to have been unaware.
It would have made the world simpler.
But there was nothing simple left.
"Then why did you stay?"
Her voice changed.
Not defensive.
Sad.
"Because I believed him."
I almost laughed.
The sound would have been cruel.
"You believed him."
"Yes."
"He was married."
"I know."
"He had children coming."
"I know."
"Then what exactly did you believe?"
The silence lasted several seconds.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer.
"That he was unhappy and afraid."
I looked away.
Those words.
Those exact words.
Nolan had said them too.
Different people.
Same story.
Same excuse.
"Did he tell you he loved you?"
"Yes."
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
My chest tightened.
"Do you love him?"
She didn't answer immediately.
That surprised me.
Finally, she said, "I don't know."
I almost hated hearing that.
May you like
Because it sounded familiar.
Everyone connected to Nolan seemed trapped in uncertainty.
