His face twisted.
“I was scared.”
“So was I,” I said. “For eighteen hours. But I didn’t punish you for it.”
He looked at Lily.
His daughter.
Our daughter.
The daughter he had refused before she ever had the chance to open her eyes properly.
“I made a mistake,” he said.
“A mistake is forgetting the diaper bag,” I replied. “You made a choice.”
David lowered himself into the chair by the wall as if his legs could no longer hold him. Carol remained standing, one hand pressed to her heart.
Mark stared at the papers again.
“Why did you bring this today?” he asked David.
David’s mouth tightened.
“Because your mother called me from the hallway. She said you had demanded a DNA test for the baby.”
Carol wiped her cheeks.
“I panicked.”
David looked at Mark with weary honesty.
“And because this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
Mark went still.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
David’s eyes shifted to me, full of apology.
“I’m sorry. I assumed you knew.”
“Knew what?”
Mark said nothing.
Carol whispered, “Mark…”
David continued.
“Last year, he asked me whether I ever questioned if he was really mine. I thought it was a strange question. Then a few months ago, he asked if I knew where to get a private paternity test.”
My grip tightened around Lily.
A few months ago.
When I was seven months pregnant.
When Mark started coming home late.
When he stopped touching my stomach unless someone else was watching.
When I caught him standing outside the nursery with a look on his face I couldn’t name.
I looked at my husband.
“Who put this in your head?”
His eyes darted away.
That one small movement told me there was more.
“Mark,” I said. “Who?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered enough for you to accuse me thirty minutes after I gave birth.”
Carol looked confused.
“Mark, what did you do?”
He paced once, then stopped near the window.
“I got messages.”
David frowned.
“Messages from whom?”
“I don’t know.”