Chapter 6: The Days After
The hotel room that night was quiet in the way that only rooms can be quiet when something large has just happened and hasn't finished yet.
Lily fell asleep within minutes, still in her dress, curled on top of the covers.
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her breathe.
James came and sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
"I need to ask you something," he said finally.
"And I need you to just answer it.
No preamble."
"All right."
"Did you love him?"
I looked at Lily.
At the dark lashes against her cheek.
At the line of her jaw that I had always thought came from my side of the family.
"Yes," I said.
"He was my first real love.
We were young.
We wanted different things and we knew it, so we ended it, and it hurt, and then he d*ed and I grieved him privately for a long time." I turned to look at James.
"And then I met you.
And what I felt for you was not a substitute for what I felt for him.
It was different.
It was more.
It was a choice I made every day because I wanted to make it."
James looked at the floor.
"I should have told you," I said.
"When I realized who you were, I should have told you.
I know that.
I have known it for six years and I told myself it didn't matter because Daniel was gone and we were here and Lily was ours." My voice broke on the last word.
"I'm sorry."
James was quiet for a long time.
"I'm not angry at you," he said at last.
"I want to be.
It would be easier." He rubbed his face with both hands.
"I'm angry at her.
For taking something that should have been a conversation between us and turning it into a weapon."
"She's grieving," I said.
"She has been grieving Daniel for eight years and she found out that a piece of him is still here, and she handled it the worst possible way."
"Don't defend her."
"I'm not.
I'm just—" I stopped.
"I understand the grief.
I don't understand the rest of it."
James nodded slowly.
"What do we do?" I asked.
"Tomorrow I call our attorney.
I want to know exactly where we stand legally before she does anything else." He looked at Lily.
"Gerald said Monday.
That means she may have already filed preliminary paperwork."
"She might have."
"Then we need to be ahead of it."
He reached over and took my hand.
Not a romantic gesture.
Something steadier than that.
The grip of two people who have just discovered that the ground they are standing on is different from what they thought, and are deciding, together, not to let go.
"James," I said.
"Whatever happens legally — whatever a court says about biology — you are her father.
You have been her father every day of her life.
That doesn't change."
He looked at Lily for a long moment.
"No," he said.
"It doesn't."
In the morning, I found a voicemail on my phone.
It was from a number I didn't recognize.
A woman's voice, older, careful.
*Mrs.
Hartwell.
My name is Patricia Voss.
I was at the gala last night.
I sat at table seven.
I saw everything that happened with your daughter and your mother-in-law.* A pause.
*I think you should know — I've seen Margaret do this before.
Not to a child.
But the performance.
The tears.
The witnesses.* Another pause.
*I have something that might help you.
Please call me back.*
May you like
I played it twice.
Then I went to find James.
