Chapter 3

"What do you mean, he offered?"

Celeste didn't answer right away.

She passed June over to Nathan and quietly told Theo to wait outside in the hall.

"Five years ago, I told Nathan I was going to a sperm bank," she said, looking straight at him. "He asked me why I'd let a total stranger father my kids."

Nathan held June closer, his arms visibly tightening around her. "Celeste, that's enough."

"You just stood there and let her believe I begged you."

"This isn't something we should discuss in front of the kids."

"Oh, so now you care about what she knows?"

June squirmed uncomfortably.

Nathan immediately began patting her back, soothing her with practiced tenderness.

I watched his hands. Eleven years ago, those exact same hands locked the baby blanket I bought into a storage closet.

Celeste continued, "He told me the clinic still had his frozen vials."

"He said that instead of picking an anonymous file who would never show up, the kids should grow up knowing who their dad is."

"Did you know I wanted children?" I asked her.

She hesitated for a beat. "Yes."

"Did you know he told me he was completely sterile?"

"That was between you two and your marriage."

I turned to Nathan. "Did you explain to her why you never told me?"

"You had just come back from the adoption agency," he rasped, his voice ragged. "They told us to start the paperwork over, and you didn't eat for two days straight. I didn't know how to look you in the eye and say I still had frozen samples."

"So you took them to Celeste's clinic instead."

"I thought it would end with signing a few consent forms."

Celeste scoffed. "You came to every consultation. When the first round failed, you were the one who pushed to try again."

Nathan's jaw tightened. "You wanted to keep going too."

"I never said I didn't," she countered, lifting her chin. "But don't play the innocent bystander."

Listening to them argue over who had taken the initiative, I felt like an intruder standing in the middle of someone else's life.

They shared the clinic, the failed first cycle, the second attempt, and two living children.

And while all of that was happening, I was walking on eggshells at home, making sure never to mention Mother's Day.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up Nathan's shared calendar.

For the past five years, every single Wednesday evening had the same entry: Lab testing.

"Which lab were you supposedly at every Wednesday?"

Nathan glanced at the screen, his throat bobbing. "The old testing center on the west side."

"And you stayed there until eleven at night?"

"Sometimes."

Celeste crossed her arms. "He ate dinner at our house every Wednesday. The kids called it Daddy Night."

Nathan scrambled to defend himself. "I usually left right after they fell asleep."

"So because you didn't sleep in the bed, it didn't count as a second home?"

June lifted her head from his shoulder, her tiny voice trembling. "Daddy, aren't you coming home with us tonight?"

Nathan closed his eyes. "Sweetheart, go with Mommy first."

Celeste opened the door.

Theo had already put his coat on and asked Nathan if he was still coming to his soccer game.

"I'll try, buddy."

"You said that last time."

Theo looked down, disappointed.

Nathan instinctively took two steps toward him, then stopped and glanced back at me.

He was still trying to keep both worlds spinning.

After they walked out, I went to his company's website and searched for the west side testing center.

A public notice stated that the building had been sold three years ago.

Yet on Nathan's calendar yesterday, it still read Lab testing.

I turned the screen toward him. "The west side facility closed three years ago. You sure get around, don't you?"

He stood there surrounded by shattered glass and party streamers, entirely speechless.

It finally sank in.

These two kids weren't an accidental slip-up.

They were part of an alternate life Nathan had meticulously built, visited weekly, and never intended to give up.