Chapter 7: What Preston Said
I carried the phone into the bedroom and closed the door.
Ruth didn't follow.
I heard her move toward the kitchen, heard the quiet sound of the kettle being filled again, giving me the room.
"Go ahead," I said.
Preston was quiet for a moment.
I could hear traffic in the background.
He was in his car, or near it.
"The baby isn't mine," he said.
I said nothing.
"Brielle told me this morning.
In the appointment.
There was a — the doctor asked questions about her medical history, and it came out." A pause.
"His name is Daniel.
She's been in contact with him for weeks apparently."
"I'm sorry," I said.
Because I was, in the way you can be sorry for someone's pain even when they caused your own.
"Don't be." His voice was rough.
"I don't deserve it."
"Preston—"
"I need to tell you something else."
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
The duvet here was plain white.
Ruth had made it up carefully, tucked the corners in.
"The accounts," Preston said.
I waited.
"I know you have documentation.
Marcus told me someone from inside spoke to you." Another pause.
"I'm not calling to ask you to stop.
I'm not calling to threaten anything.
I just — I needed you to hear it from me first.
What was done.
What I allowed to happen."
"What you did," I said quietly.
"What I did." He didn't argue it.
"Yes."
Outside the bedroom door, I could hear Isla explaining something to Ruth at considerable volume and speed.
Something about the duck pond.
She'd seen it from the window.
"My father was involved," Preston said.
"I want you to know that.
Not because it excuses anything.
Because you should have the complete picture when your solicitor proceeds."
I pressed my free hand flat against the white duvet.
"Why are you telling me this?"
A long pause.
"Because this morning I told my daughters to go with their mother." His voice broke slightly on the word daughters.
"And I said it like it was nothing.
Like they were — luggage.
Something to be sorted." He stopped.
"I've been thinking about their faces since the moment I said it.
Isla didn't understand.
But Nora did.
I saw it."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me," Preston said.
"I'm not asking for anything.
I just — I needed you to know that I understand what I did.
All of it.
Not just today."
The traffic sound in the background shifted.
He was moving.
"Are the girls all right?" he asked.
"They're fine.
Isla is already in love with the duck pond."
Something that might have been a small, broken laugh.
"Of course she is."
We were both quiet.
"I'll cooperate with the disclosure," Preston said.
"Fully.
I've already told my solicitor.
Whatever they need."
"Your father won't agree to that."
"My father doesn't get a vote on this one."
I opened my eyes.
The room was small and clean and full of afternoon light coming through a window that looked out over Edinburgh rooftops.
"Preston," I said.
"The girls will want to speak to you.
When they're settled.
When Nora is ready."
A silence that felt like something releasing.
"I'd like that," he said.
"If you'll allow it."
"They're your daughters.
That doesn't change."
He didn't respond for a moment.
Then: "Thank you, Lena."
I ended the call and sat with the phone in my lap.
Ruth knocked once and opened the door.
"Tea," she said, holding out the cup.
I took it.
"Okay?" she asked.
"Getting there," I said.
She sat beside me on the edge of the bed and we both looked out the window at the rooftops and the pale Scottish sky.
"He's going to cooperate with the disclosure," I said.
Ruth raised her eyebrows.
May you like
"And his father?"
"That," I said, "is a different conversation entirely."
