Dawson's face went blank.
“I found out my wife was having an affair six hours ago.”
“I appreciate the timing is poor.”
“Poor?”
Nora almost smiled.
“Catastrophic, then.”
He sat.
“I don't know.”
“Good.”
she said.
We all looked at her.
“That is a better answer than pretending certainty because a dead woman wrote your name.”
Dawson laughed through tears.
Then I thought of Oliver.
Four years old.
Mother dead.
Father newly revealed.
Aunt lying.
Grandmother scheming.
A trust everyone seemed able to discuss more easily than the child attached to it.
“Does Oliver know Ryan is his father?”
I asked.
Nora nodded.
“Lena told him Ryan was his daddy before she died.”
My heart tightened.
“Does he know me?”
Ryan looked at me.
“No.”
“Does he know our children?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
My children's lives had another person inside them they had never met.
Their half-brother.
Four years old.
