“I didn’t disappear.”
Rowan froze.
“What?”
“I came back from London and you were gone. My mother told me you left because you didn’t want my life.”
Her lips parted.
“Your mother told me you wanted nothing to do with me or the babies.”
Neither of us said a word.
For the first time, I realized that maybe neither of us had abandoned the other.
Someone had kept us apart.
THE PROPOSAL I NEVER MADE
At 5:42 p.m., I called my executive assistant.
“Taryn, cancel tonight.”
She hesitated.
“The dinner?”
“Everything.”
“Including the proposal?”
I looked through the restaurant window.
Rowan was kneeling down to zip Knox’s coat.
“Especially the proposal.”
By the time I arrived at my Beacon Hill apartment, the boys were eating tomato soup around the kitchen island.
Rowan had washed their school sweaters and draped them over the backs of chairs.
She looked uncomfortable inside my home.
I probably would have too if I had spent years believing the owner of that home had intentionally abandoned my children.
We waited until the boys were watching a movie before stepping onto the glass-enclosed balcony.
I asked the question that frightened me most.
“Are they mine?”
Rowan looked directly into my eyes.
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“All four?”
She actually looked offended.
“Callum, they’re quadruplets.”
Despite everything, I nearly smiled.
Then the weight of her answer came rushing back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her expression hardened.
“I did.”
TWO PEOPLE GIVEN THE SAME LIE
Rowan told me she had discovered she was expecting children the night before I left for London.
According to her, she had told me in bed after midnight.
Apparently, I had held her hand and promised that we would figure everything out when I came back.
I remembered none of it.
The following morning, after I left for the airport, Rowan went to my parents’ house because she was scared and needed advice.
My mother, Celeste Mercer, met her in the sitting room.
“She told me you had changed your mind,” Rowan said.
“About you?”
“About all of us.”
My stomach tightened.
Rowan went on.
My mother had offered her $180,000 to begin a new life somewhere else.
Rowan refused.
Then her calls to my number suddenly stopped going through.
Two days later, she received an email from my company account saying that our relationship was over and that any further questions should be directed through family counsel.
I stared at her.
“I never sent that.”
“I know that now.”
Then I explained what had happened to me.
When I returned from London, her apartment was empty.
My mother gave me a letter that supposedly came from Rowan.
The letter said she couldn’t live in my world, that she had made a mistake, and that I should never look for her.
Rowan’s eyes filled with tears.
“I never wrote that letter.”
For six years, she had believed I had rejected her.
For six years, I had believed she had chosen to leave.
Someone had constructed two different lies and given one to each of us.
THE QUESTION FROM A SIX-YEAR-OLD
Later that night, Kellan found me sitting by myself near the fireplace.
He climbed into the chair across from me.
“Mom says you knew her before we were born.”
“I did.”
“Were you friends?”
I glanced toward Rowan.
She was pretending not to hear us from the kitchen.
“We were more than friends.”
Kellan considered that for a moment.
Then he asked quietly:
“Are you our dad?”
iframe
That question frightened me more than any business negotiation I had ever faced.
