Chapter 2

The moment Nathan ushered me into the private lounge, the first words out of his mouth were: "I never touched her."

The heavy door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the murmurs from the hall.

Celeste had taken the kids into the adjacent room, though I could still hear Theo whining about why they couldn't stay for cake.

I looked at Nathan. "Do you honestly think that's what matters most to me right now?"

"I just need you to know this wasn't an affair." He loosened his bowtie, his fingers shaking so violently he struggled with the knot.

"Celeste wanted a baby when she turned thirty-five. She didn't want to get married, and she didn't want an anonymous donor."

"I still had frozen samples stored from before my treatment."

My brain struggled to process his words.

"What samples?"

He avoided my eyes. "Sperm. The oncologist suggested banking some before I started chemo."

My hands gripped the edge of the chair.

Eleven years ago, after his final scan came back clear, Nathan broke down sobbing in my arms in the hospital parking lot.

He told me the treatment saved his life, but it cost us our chance of ever becoming parents.

That very night, I threw the baby name book I had bought into the trash.

The following year, when I suggested consulting an IVF clinic, he spent thirty minutes throwing up in the bathroom from stress.

Whenever I brought up adoption, he spent the night pacing the floor with insomnia.

I thought it was trauma.

"You had samples banked this whole time?"

"The survival rate was extremely low."

"That wasn't my question."

He paused. "Yes."

June's muffled sobs drifted through the wall.

Nathan's head snapped toward the noise, his entire posture leaning toward the door.

It was an instinctive, paternal reaction.

One I had never seen from him before.

"Did you sign the IVF consent forms?"

"I did."

"Did you go to the clinic with her?"

"Only on the day of the transfer."

"What about during the pregnancy?"

Nathan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There were complications with a few ultrasounds."

Each confession cut deeper than the last.

"Where were you when they were born?"

"At the hospital."

I did the math. That was the week he claimed an equipment malfunction required him to fly to Zurich.

I had packed his suitcase, kissed him goodbye at the gate, and slipped stomach medication into his bag because his digestion had been acting up.

"You watched them get delivered?"

He stayed silent.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled back through my photos from five years ago.

There I was, standing in our quiet kitchen with two wine glasses and a cold, untouched dinner on the counter.

"This was the night you came back from 'Zurich.' I cooked to celebrate your successful business trip. You told me you were too exhausted to eat a single bite."

Nathan glanced at the screen and quickly looked away. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"So you decided you were never going to tell me? You intended to keep this a secret forever?"

"It was only supposed to be a donation. But once they were born, Celeste couldn't manage everything alone. I couldn't just pretend they didn't exist."

"Then why keep me in the dark?"

"Because you wanted a family so badly." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I knew it would break your heart."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "So to keep from breaking my heart, you lived a secret double life as a father for five years?"

The door swung open.

Celeste stood in the frame with June resting her tear-stained face on her shoulder.

"The kids need to go home," she said.

Nathan grabbed his coat, moving with the easy familiarity of someone who had done this every Wednesday for half a decade.

I stepped in front of the door. "Is your name on their birth certificates?"

Celeste held June tighter while Nathan kept his head down.

Theo peeked out from behind his mother. "Of course he is! The school said Daddy's coming to our Family Day next month!"

I looked straight at Nathan.

"So you're not just an anonymous donor. You're their legal, registered father."

"Eve, let me explain."

Celeste cut in sharply, "Stop making it sound like I begged you for help."

Her eyes were red, but her voice was steady.

"You were the one who offered to give me those babies."