Chapter 22: What She Cost Me

I went in alone and shut the door.

The room smelled of antiseptic and warm blankets.

Sabine lay against the pillows, small in the white gown, with a tube taped to the back of her hand.

"Sit," she said.

"I'll stand."

"You always did what I said."

"Not for six months."

"Don't be clever."

She picked at the tape on her hand.

"You read that chart in October and you went white. You knew something about April twenty-third. I want to know what."

"Why?"

"Because you've known everything since the parlor. The skim. The cottage. Nobody's that lucky."

I looked at her for a while.

She had been the center of my life for as long as I could remember.

I realized I had come in not to hurt her.

I had come to say it once, so I would never have to say it again.

"I had a son once," I said.

She blinked.

"A boy of two, with dark curls and big brown eyes," I said. "Every night he ran to my door and shouted a word I'd taught him."

"What word?"

"Daddy."

Her mouth opened a little.

"He was born on April twenty-third," I said. "He had Rex's eyes. I loved him more than anyone, and I thought he was mine."

"Weston, that's insane. You've never had a son."

"No."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying he's gone, and you were the one who took him from me."

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