Then, quietly—so quietly I almost miss it—he says, “But I didn’t have a wife, Rhea. Or a son.”
“I know that now,” I say, my voice breaking. “And every day I wish I could go back and do it differently. But I can’t.”
I glance away, forcing the words out.
“My reaction… it was a byproduct of my own screwed-up childhood. Of my father and hisextra family.The younger woman, the baby he left us for. He never looked back.”
I pause, swallowing the ache in my throat.
“I couldn’t be that woman. And I couldn’t let Esme be that child. Any more than I could let either of us be a mistake you needed to make disappear.”
My voice trembles.
“I was terrified, Spencer. Pregnant. Alone. And just trying to survive.”
He doesn’t respond. He just sits there, staring at something far off in the distance, face unreadable.
And then, after what feels like forever, he says quietly, “Well…whatever comes next, I want you to know, I want to be her dad.”
He’s looking at me again, but I can’t quite turn to meet his gaze.
“When I heard the results were available, it hit me—if they were negative… I was going to be crushed. I’m glad to be her dad, Rhea. She’s amazing.”
Tears streak silently down my cheeks. He reaches over and rests a hand on my leg. Gentle. Tentative.
I place mine over his.
“I’m glad you are, too,” I whisper. “And so relieved you finally know.”
His fingers tighten slightly over mine, and he shakes his head.
“I’m not going to take her from you,” he says softly. “You have my word. You don’t need to be scared of that.”
I nod again, heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.
“It’s not just that,” I say, barely audible. “I’m scared of losing you.”
I pause.
“Scared I already have.”
He doesn’t say I haven’t.
But he doesn’t say I have, either.
FORTY-TWO
SPENCER
Two days later, Esme is discharged.
Despite my offer to fly them home, Rhea says she’d rather drive. “I just feel better with her strapped into her carseat,” she says. “Normal. Predictable.”
I rent a four-door sedan, something practical. My usual ride is a sleek, low-slung coupe with no business near a toddler, let alone a car seat.
Gina sends over a travel bag with everything she thinks a Esme might need for a two-hour ride: snacks, wipes, toys, backup toys, books, emergency books, and a teddy bear she grabs onto immediately and won’t let go.
Mostly, Rhea and I don’t talk.
