“Yes.” Megan set the photograph down. That confession hurt her more than he expected, because it inserted Connor’s possibility into what had been one of her sacred family images. David almost apologized immediately but stopped.
He had learned that apologies used too quickly can become efforts to move people away from pain before they have finished feeling it. Megan eventually put the photo back in the box. “I hate knowing that,” she said. “I know.”
“But I asked.” “Yes.” She looked at him. “Do not ever make me regret asking by lying again.”
“I won’t.” The promise felt different from the vows David had once made easily because now he understood promises are not proof of character. Repetition is. Sarah faced a different reckoning when Connor asked to read the old messages between her and David.
She had deleted most of them long ago, but a few emails remained in an archived account, including David’s short reply after Connor’s birth. Connor read I’m glad. Take care. and went silent for so long Sarah became frightened.
“That was it?” he asked. Sarah nodded. “He knew I might be his and that was it?” “Yes.”
Connor closed the laptop. For three weeks after that he did not see David. When he finally agreed to meet, he brought a printed copy of the email and placed it on the diner table between them. “Explain this without making yourself look better.”