“Your markers didn’t match where they should.”
Marcus’s face tightened.
“Doctors told you I wasn’t his father?”
“They told me there was a discrepancy.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I panicked.”
“You called Daniel.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“How soon?”
“That day.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Did he test?”
“Yes.”
“How long for the result?”
“Four days.”
“And?”
Claire looked toward the stairs.
“99.98 percent.”
Marcus’s knees nearly gave.
He sat.
Not because Claire told him.
Because his body made the decision.
He stared at the floor.
Ethan’s new birthday paper lay near his shoes.
Happy.
Happy.
Happy.
Letters everywhere.
Claire moved toward him.
“Marcus.”
He looked up.
“Don’t touch me.”
She stopped.
Marcus rubbed his eyes.
“You knew eight months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel knew.”
“Yes.”
“You both decided not to tell me.”
“At first.”
Marcus laughed.
“At first?”
“What changed after the first lie?”
Claire sat across from him but kept distance.
“Daniel wanted to tell you.”
Marcus stared.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“That’s supposed to help?”
“No.”
“He wanted a relationship with Ethan.”
Marcus’s jaw clenched.
“So you let him come here while I traveled.”
“Not immediately.”
“When?”
“The first visit was five months ago.”
“How did you explain Daniel suddenly coming around?”
“To Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“He already knew him as Uncle Daniel.”
“Exactly.”
The word uncle now felt obscene.
Claire continued:
“At first Daniel would come for dinner.”
“Then longer.”
“Then you slept together.”
She closed her eyes.
Marcus nodded.
“Of course.”
“It wasn’t planned.”
“Three times.”
“I know.”
“Things that happen three times have begun developing schedules.”
Claire cried.
“I was terrified.”
“So you slept with him.”
“I was confused.”
“So you slept with him.”
“I was losing everything.”
“No.”
Marcus’s voice became suddenly cold.
“You were risking everything.”
“There is a difference.”
She stared.
He continued:
“You could have told me eight months ago.”
“You could have walked into our bedroom with the test.”
“You could have broken me once.”
“You chose to break me every day for eight months and just not tell me yet.”
Claire whispered:
“I thought you’d leave Ethan.”
Marcus stood so quickly she flinched.
“What?”
“I thought if you knew—”
“You thought I would leave my son?”
“He isn’t biologically—”
“Stop.”
His voice cracked across the room.
Claire went silent.
Marcus pointed upstairs.
“That boy has called me Dad since he could talk.”
“I changed his diapers.”
“I held him through pneumonia.”
“I slept on the floor beside his crib because he had night terrors.”
“I taught him to ride a bike.”
“I took him to kindergarten.”
“I know which cereal he pretends he hates because he thinks Noah at school says it’s baby food.”
“I know he lies about brushing his back teeth.”
“I know he cannot sleep unless one foot is outside the blanket.”
Marcus’s eyes filled.
“And you thought a lab report could walk into my house and fire me?”
Claire cried harder.
“I didn’t know.”
“That says more about you than me.”
A car door slammed outside.
Both froze.