Then she smiled.
“She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“I think so too.”
“But…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Tell me.”
She laughed awkwardly.
“I was just thinking she doesn’t resemble anyone in the family.”
My pulse quickened.
“You noticed?”
“Every baby is different.”
“But you noticed.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“A little.”
That single conversation planted another seed of doubt.
That afternoon, I dug an old storage box out of the attic.
Inside were Max’s newborn photos.
Mine.
Ethan’s.
I spread them across the dining table.
Max wandered over.
He pointed at one picture.
“That’s me.”
“It is.”
Then he pointed at Lily sleeping in her bassinet.
“That’s not her.”
I closed my eyes.
“Max…”
He wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at the photographs.
“The baby I saw had eyes like yours.”
“Lily’s eyes are still changing.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Different eyes.”
