My knees feel unsteady. I move back to the stove and turn the burner off under the pasta, then stir the marinara sauce again, hoping I look less rattled than I feel. “I—I ran across it in your desk drawer.”
“You couldn’t have ‘run across it’ without going through my private papers.”
“I saw the envelope the last time you got out your passport.”
“So you thought it was okay to just read my personal papers?” He’s in full lawyer mode now. “I know where you keep your old journals. Does that give me permission to read them?”
Shame shrinks me. I feel small and petty and ugly. “You’re right,” I say, abandoning the spoon in the sauce. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”
“You know what’s even worse than going through my private papers? You hacked into my email account, impersonated me, then tried to change the e-address so you could get information without my knowledge. On what planet is that an all right thing to do?”
“I’m sorry. It—it was a mistake.” Although the wordhackedisn’t really accurate, when I know he used to use I8abagel as the password for all non-money-related accounts. “I just really wanted to know, because...” I run out of words. I can’t come up with a single excuse that isn’t covered with the ugly slime of jealousy, bitterness, resentment, or worse.
“Because what?”
“Well...” I turn off the burner under the sauce, move to the other side of the kitchen island, and perch on one of the barstools, hoping I can still turn his mood—and the evening—around. “Because I’ve changed my mind about using a donor egg.”
This doesn’t seem to strike him as good news. His brow pulls into a hard frown. “You’ve always hated the idea of a donor egg. Besides, we’re moving so you can take on this big new job, and you agreed to take a break from all this starting-a-family stuff. It makes no sense.”
“It makes lots of sense.” I try to sound persuasive and enthusiastic. “I’d like to make a fresh start. One with better odds. You tried to persuade me to consider a donor egg.”
His frown deepens. “That was a bunch of IVF procedures ago, and you were dead set against it. And anyway, I fail to see a connection. What the hell does a donor egg have to do with my account at the cryobank?”
Because if I use a donor egg, it’ll be one more biological child you’ve created with a random woman’s DNA, and I want to know how many of those are already walking around.But I can’t say that, because it’s wrong. It’s small-minded and selfish and probably politically incorrect.
“What’s really going on here, Jessica?” His blue eyes are troubled. I can tell he’s trying to move beyond his anger, although I can see it hasn’t entirely burned out yet.He’s such a good man.The thought pierces me.
“Nothing.” My eyes fill with tears. I look down and twist my wedding set on my finger.
He blows out a hard sigh and runs his hand down his face. “You need to level with me. If I can’t trust you, what kind of marriage do we have?”
I wrap my arms around my stomach, which feels like a cannonball pressing against my spine. He’s right. I’m destroying his trust in me. I feel like I can’t even trust myself anymore. What kind of obsessed, desperate, crazy woman have I become? Tears drip off my chin, making splotches on my blouse.
He pulls a paper towel off the holder and hands it to me. This little kindness makes me feel worse.
“Come on, Jess,” he says. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
I dab at my eyes. “I... I wanted to know if you had any children. It’s been killing me.”
“We’ve talked about this, Jess. I think you need to get professional help.”
“A shrink won’t change the situation.”
“Well, neither will rooting around in my personal papers and trying to hack into my donor account.”
“I have this need to find out, and it’s gotten worse instead of better. I can’t seem to let it go.”
“We’ve discussed all this. I’ve explained over and over that the cryobank has rules and procedures in place to respect everyone’s privacy.”
“I know, I know. But a lot of time has gone by, and I thought that things might have changed. And...” The words pour out before I can stop them. “They have.”
“What?”
“I—I found out something.” I bury my face in the paper towel. Oh my God, what am I doing?Shut up, I tell myself.Just shut up. Say no more. But there’s a part of me that can’t keep quiet.
Zack blows out a long sigh. “I talked to a representative at the cryobank, and she told me they didn’t release any information.” He clearly thinks I’m still lying. “Truth and trust go together, Jessica. My father always said that trust is the most important thing in a relationship, and if you can’t be honest with me, well...”
I interrupt, my voice muffled through the paper towel. “The cryobank isn’t the only place that has information.” I shouldn’t be telling him this, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stand for him to think I’m dumb or lying.
