I stared at him.
“What?”
His eyes flicked to Eli. “Obviously, the circumstances were unusual. I had concerns. The test answered them.”
The test answered them.
Not I’m sorry.
Not Claire, I was scared and cruel and wrong.
Not I left you alone during labor and humiliated you in front of strangers because my ego panicked.
Just: The test answered them.
My daughter shifted against my chest. Her tiny mouth opened and closed, searching. Instinctively, I curved my arm around her more securely.
Ryan noticed the movement.
For the first time since he’d entered the room, he looked properly at her.
Not as evidence.
Not as a problem.
As a baby.
His baby.
A flicker crossed his face. Wonder, maybe. Or possession. With Ryan, those things often wore the same suit.
He stepped closer.
“So,” he said, voice softer now, “where is my daughter?”
Dana moved subtly between him and the bed.
