That hurt.
That heartbreak. Not knowing which truth to trust. And I know I’m the one who put it there.
“Rhea,” he says, locking his eyes with mine. “I believe you. I believe she’s mine.”
“She is,” I whisper in agreement.
“I think I even see it in her eyes.”
I nod, “I do all the time.”
“And I want you to know I will do everything in my power to be a good dad to her.”
But the air between us grows heavy, thick with the weight of what’s unsaid.
I wait. Braced and ready.
At last he says, “But I’ll never understand why you kept her from me all this time. It wasn’t your decision to make. You never gave me a chance.”
The pain on his face cuts me like truth always does—clean and undeniable.
“You’re right,” I whisper.
Our eyes are locked, the pain in his like a mirror of my own.
“But I understand the importance of the paternity test. Not because I have any doubt, but because I don’t want you to have even a sliver of question.”
He nods, slowly. “Sure.”
That’s it. One word. No edge. No warmth. Just… resignation.
And suddenly, we’re on the other side of crisis. The adrenaline’s gone. The hallway is too quiet.
And a new reality begins to settle in.
Spencer might show up. He might be the incredible father I’ve always wished Esme could have. And I might be the one on the outside, because of two years of silence I can’t undo.
We walk toward the main waiting area. The wall clock says 6:07. The day has begun, whether we’re ready or not.
“I should call work,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “And Laney. And Carter. They should know what’s going on.”
“I’ve got a few calls to make too.”
We pause at the end of the hallway—two people who went through hell together, not sure yet how to be with each other in the quiet after.
“I’ll be just down the hall,” he says. “Take your time.”
And he walks away, hands in his pockets, shoulders sagging.
The calls are exhausting.
Laney wants to come immediately. I try to explain why she shouldn’t.
She’s out of town, three hours away, and there’s nothing for her to do but wait and worry alongside me. Only one person can be with Esme at a time.
Still, she cries when I tell her what happened—apologizing for not being here, for not knowing sooner, for being away at a funeral. And as I reassure her, the exhaustionsinks deeper into my bones. I can feel it spreading through me like cement.
Carter, on the other hand, is full of questions.
