“The laptop,” I said. “At the kitchen table. That night.”
He nodded. “I was reading about it. Again. For the hundredth time.”
“And then she was born.”
“And then she was born, and I looked at her, and she had that hair.” He pressed his hands against his face. “Nobody in my family has red hair, Claire. Nobody in yours that I ever saw. And everything I’d been pushing down for nine months just… exploded. I thought, I’ve been a fool. I thought, of course. Of course it wasn’t a miracle. Of course she found someone else. I couldn’t give her a baby, so she found someone who could.”“And you didn’t ask me.” My voice was shaking now. “You didn’t ask me one single question. You didn’t say, Claire, is she mine? You just decided. You looked at a three-minute-old baby and decided I was a liar and a cheat, and you threw us away like garbage.”
