Chapter 8
He thought his lawyer had simply made the agreement “cleaner.”
He was in a hurry.
Kayla had dinner reservations.
I knew because Andrea had told me.
Ocean Prime.
Seven thirty.
A celebration.
Of what, exactly, I never asked.
Maybe freedom.
Maybe Jason’s new life.
Maybe the fact that I had signed without causing a scene.
At 7:52 that evening, I walked into the restaurant.
I had changed clothes.
Nothing dramatic.
Navy dress.
Hair tied back.
The cream envelope inside my purse.
I spotted them almost immediately.
Jason sat with his back partly toward me.
Kayla faced the room.
She saw me first.
Her expression changed.
Jason noticed.
He turned.
For one second, nobody moved.
His hand was wrapped around Kayla’s.
I walked toward the table.
Jason stood.
“Michelle?”
His voice was half alarm, half irritation.
“What are you doing here?”
I looked at Kayla.
She was beautiful.
Not in the exaggerated way betrayed wives are supposed to describe younger women.
Just beautiful.
Young.
Nervous.
Very human.
“Hi, Kayla.”
She swallowed.
“Michelle.”
Jason stepped into the aisle.
“You can’t do this here.”
“Do what?”
“Make a scene.”
I almost smiled.
“I’m not making a scene.”
People nearby had barely noticed us.
I reached into my purse.
Jason saw the envelope.
“What is that?”
I looked at him.
“Before you start your new life, don’t you want to know who that little boy really belongs to?”
Everything changed.
Jason’s face.
Kayla’s face.
The air between them.
Kayla stood so quickly her chair scraped against the floor.
“Michelle.”
Jason looked at her.
Then at me.
“What are you talking about?”
I held out the envelope.
He didn’t take it.
So I placed it on the table.
“Open it.”
Kayla reached for it.
Jason stopped her.
“Don’t.”
That told me more than either of them realized.
He was afraid.
Not confused.
Afraid.
“Jason,” Kayla whispered.
He opened the envelope.
The first page was the court order.
He read the heading.
His eyebrows pulled together.
Then the laboratory report.
His face went white.
Kayla sat down.
Jason kept reading.
“No.”
I said nothing.
He looked at Kayla.
“No.”
She whispered, “Jason, listen to me.”
He dropped the paper onto the table.
“It says Daniel is his father.”
Kayla looked toward me.
Not Jason.
Me.
That told me she understood exactly how I had learned.
“Where did you get this?”
Jason asked.
“From Daniel.”
“You talked to Daniel?”