I stopped walking.
“James.”
He looked at me.
“I need you to sit down,” he said.
“Tell me why I’m here.”
“Please.”
“No.”
I didn’t sit.
I couldn’t.
He stared at the floor for a long moment.
“Because there’s something I have to ask you,” he finally said. “And I need you to hear all of it before you answer.”
My mind immediately went somewhere ugly.
I wish I could say it didn’t.
I wish I trusted my husband so completely that standing outside a maternity room with a newborn girl inside wouldn’t make one thought punch straight through me.
His baby.
Someone else’s baby.
With him.
I looked through the glass again.
Pink blanket.
Tiny hand.
My stomach dropped.
“Is she yours?”
James looked genuinely shocked.
“What?”
“Don’t make me ask twice.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
