Chapter 8: Marissa's Version

I shut the den door so Milly would not hear.

We stood on either side of my father's old desk, with the folder between us.

"Tell me all of it," I said. "Start at the beginning."

Marissa pulled her robe tighter.

"Your mother took me to lunch after the engagement."

"Where?"

"At the country club. She had a table in the corner."

"What did she say?"

"That you could never have children."

Her voice was steady.

"She said you didn't know, that it would break you, and that she'd found a way to give you a family without ever telling you."

"And you said yes."

"I said I'd think about it."

"For how long?"

"Four days."

She finally looked at me.

"Gavin, I wanted a baby. I was twenty-five, my father was dying in a county hospital, and your mother had already paid his bills."

"You owed her."

"I did. And I loved you."

"You loved me."

"I did."

"While you slept with my brother in a motel."

"That came later."

"How much later?"

She hesitated.

"The first time was supposed to be one time," she said.

"Your mother arranged a weekend at the lake house, and I told myself it was medical."

"A weekend."

"And then Milly was born, and Colby held her, and we realized there was no way back from that."

She said it.

I laughed, short and ugly.

"That's the story you tell yourself."

"It's the truth."

"It's what you tell yourself so you can sleep next to me."

She flinched.

"You were never supposed to find out," she said. "That's what I'm trying to say."

"Because you were so careful."

"Because it was kind, Gavin."

"Kind?"

"You adore her. You read to her every night."

"You never once looked at her and saw anything but your own daughter."

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