Rachel nodded. "My lawyer said it strengthened Oliver's case—stability, familiar caregivers. I wasn't trying to claim your marriage. I was trying not to lose my sister's child to strangers."
"And your divorce?" Laura asked. "Is he going to appear someday and complicate this further?"
"My ex wanted a clean split and a motorcycle. He got both. He has no interest in Oliver. He's never met him."
Laura closed the folder. "Daniel. Why didn't you tell me when the temporary order became permanent in August? Mom was still alive then. Barely. But alive. You could have said, This is happening."
Daniel's voice was raw. "Because you would have come home. And I wanted you to—God, Laura, I wanted you here every day—but your mother was dying, and if you left her for this, you would have hated yourself, and maybe hated me for making you choose. I decided for you. That was wrong. I know that now in my bones. At the time it felt like the only non-monstrous option."
"You don't get to decide which monsters I face," Laura said.
"I know."
Rachel stood, gathered Oliver, then set him back down as if realizing that leaving the room would look like fleeing. "There's something else you should know, because if you find out later it will look worse. Two weeks ago, Daniel and I took Oliver to a follow-up at the pediatrician. The nurse assumed we were a couple. She said, 'Mom and Dad, he's gaining nicely.' Neither of us corrected her. We were tired. We smiled. We left. I've thought about that smile every day since. It was cowardice. It wasn't a claim."