I remembered the expensive dinners I had prepared after another unsuccessful fertility treatment. I remembered holding his hand in hospital waiting rooms. I remembered apologizing to him when the doctors couldn’t explain why we weren’t getting pregnant.
I remembered him telling me that he didn’t care about having children as long as we had each other.
Apparently, that promise had expired.
“I hope your new family brings you happiness,” I said.
Then I turned toward the exit.
Russell laughed.
“That’s the problem with Tessa. She always walks away when things get uncomfortable.”
I didn’t turn around.
I had learned a long time ago that arguing with someone determined to humiliate you rarely changes anything.
But before I could take another step, a loud voice came from the house.
“Mommy!”
I froze.
Another little voice followed.
“Mommy! There you are!”
Two small boys came running through the open patio doors.
They were wearing matching navy-blue sweaters, little gray trousers, and tiny white sneakers.
One had dark curls falling over his forehead. The other had a small dimple in his left cheek.
They ran straight toward me.
“Mommy!”
I dropped my purse and knelt just in time to catch them.
“Ethan! Noah!”
Both boys threw their arms around my neck.
I kissed their cheeks, laughing as they nearly knocked me backward.
“Hey, my babies. What are you doing here?”
Ethan pointed toward the house.
“Grandma said we could come find you.”
Noah squeezed my shoulder.
“We missed you!”
I hugged them tightly.
Then I became aware of the silence.
It was no longer the uncomfortable silence of people watching an argument.
It was something else.
I slowly looked up.
Russell was standing beside the dessert table.
His champagne glass had slipped from his fingers and shattered against the patio stones.
Delaney had one hand pressed against her pregnant belly.
Gwen’s face had turned completely pale.
Russell stared at the boys.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Finally, he whispered:
“Who… who are those children?”
I looked at him.
For seven years, he had made me feel like a woman who had failed at the most important thing a wife could supposedly give her husband.
For four years, he had told people our marriage ended because I couldn’t have children.
And now, two little boys were standing in front of him.
“My sons,” I answered.
Russell shook his head.
See more on the next page
