Robert laughs, delighted. "I did not know that. You're a smart one."
"They both are," Marcus interjects smoothly. "Straight A students. I always made sure they kept up with their homework when Mia and I were together."
The implication is clear. He was there. He acted as their father. He has a claim to them.
My jaw tightens so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack.
"That's wonderful," Robert says. "Education is important. Your mother was always an excellent student, too."
"Mom's a teacher now," Rory says proudly. "At the high school."
"I know." Robert's gaze finds Mia's again. "I'm proud of her for that. For becoming a teacher. It's what she always wanted."
The moment feels significant. An olive branch extended. Mia's eyes fill with tears.
"Thank you, Dad," she whispers.
Marcus leans closer to Mia, his hand finding hers on the table. "We always knew she'd do great things. She just needed the right support system."
I want to punch him. The urge is so strong I have to grip my glass of iced tea to keep my hands occupied.
Throughout the meal, Marcus dominates the conversation. He reminisces about his relationship with Mia, making pointed comments about second chances and the importance of family stability. He talks about the years he spent with the twins, the baseball games and school events, painting himself as the devoted father figure.
Linda encourages this narrative with leading questions. "It must have been wonderful, having that support during those early years."
"It was," Marcus agrees. "The boys needed a father figure. I was happy to step into that role."
Mia barely speaks. She pushes food around her plate, her face growing paler with each passing minute. I catch her eye once and see desperation there. A silent plea for help that I can't answer in front of everyone.
My jealousy wars with my growing certainty about the twins' paternity. Every time Marcus touches Mia, every time he references his role in the boys' lives, I want to stand up and announce that those are my sons. That I'm their father, not him.
But I can't. Not here. Not like this. And not without confirmation.
After dinner, Robert retreats to his recliner, exhausted from the excitement and exertion. Linda immediately fusses over him, adjusting his blanket and asking if he needs his medication.
"I'm fine, Linda," he says, but his voice is weaker now. "Just tired. It's been a big day."
"Meeting your grandsons," Linda says softly, stroking his hair. "I'm so glad you finally got to meet them properly."
"Me too." Robert's eyes find the twins, who are looking at family photos on the mantle. "I just wish I'd known about them sooner. Wish I hadn't wasted so much time being angry."
The guilt in Mia's expression is devastating.
"Why don't you help me with the dishes, Marcus?" Linda suggests, clearly trying to give Robert some space to rest.
Marcus hesitates, his gaze lingering on Mia. "Sure. Happy to help."
He follows Linda into the kitchen, leaving Mia and me momentarily alone in the hallway. Through the kitchen window, I can see the twins in the backyard, examining something in the grass with the intense focus only children possess.
Robert has dozed off in his recliner, his breathing deep and even.
This is my chance. Maybe my only chance.
I grab Mia's wrist and pull her into the empty study, closing the door behind us with a soft click. The room is exactly as I remember it. The same bookshelves lined with fire department memorabilia. The same desk where we ...
I push that memory aside and focus on the woman in front of me. She's trembling, her blue eyes wide with fear and something else. Resignation, maybe.
"Jack, I can explain?—"
