Ben sat in the armchair across from me. Diane sat on the very edge of the ottoman, like she might run at any second. My dad stood in the doorway between us and the kitchen with his arms crossed. Guarding Evelyn. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it.“Say it,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Flat. Like someone else’s voice. “Say what you thought. Out loud. I want to hear you say it.”
Ben closed his eyes.
“Claire—”
“Say it.”
“I thought she wasn’t mine.” He opened his eyes. They were full of tears. “When you got pregnant, I told myself it was a miracle. I told myself doctors are wrong sometimes. I read everything I could find. Every article, every study. Some men get their fertility back after chemo, years later. Not many. But some. I told myself that was us. I chose to believe it. I made myself believe it.”
