I knelt in front of them, smoothing Olivia’s coat sleeve, brushing snow from Noah’s hair. “Nothing scary is going to happen. You are safe. You are loved. And we’re only staying as long as we choose to stay.”
Noah studied my face. He was the oldest by six minutes and acted as if that gave him responsibility for the others. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
A teenage girl I didn’t recognize stepped forward from behind the Christmas tree. She had Patricia’s eyes and a shy, uncertain smile. “I can take them. I’m Rachel. Their cousin, I guess.”
The words came out awkwardly, but kindly.
Patricia made a faint sound at “cousin,” as if the word had opened another door inside her.
I looked at Rachel. “Thank you.”
The children hesitated, then followed her toward the sitting room. Olivia looked back once at Marcus.
“You didn’t answer,” she said.
Marcus flinched.
When they were gone, the room exhaled.
Celeste turned toward Marcus fully. “I need the truth.”
He ran a hand down his face. “I didn’t know.”
I almost laughed, but there was no humor left in me. “You chose not to know.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said, my voice steady. “What wasn’t fair was changing your number after I sent you the first ultrasound. What wasn’t fair was having your lawyer tell mine you wanted no further contact. What wasn’t fair was calling me a liar before a doctor ever said a word.”
Patricia covered her mouth.
Marcus looked at his mother, then back at me. “I never got an ultrasound.”
The room went still again.
I stared at him. “What?”
“I never got one,” he said. “I got your voicemail. I got the message saying you were pregnant. I thought—”
“You thought I invented four children?” I asked.
“No. Back then I thought you invented one.”
Celeste’s eyes closed briefly.
Harold stepped forward. “Marcus.”
His tone held a warning.
I turned toward Harold. Something in his face made a cold thread pull through me. “What do you know?”
He looked at Patricia.
Patricia wouldn’t meet my eyes.
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