Chapter 10
“We’re going to talk about this,” I said quietly.
Ethan pointed at Ryan with all the subtlety of a five-year-old.
“Is he our dad?”
I could feel Ryan watching me.
I could also feel the weight of every answer I had postponed.
“Yes.”
Three little faces turned toward him.
Ryan looked as though someone had struck him.
Lily studied him.
“You have our eyes.”
A sound escaped him.
Not laughter.
Not quite.
He crouched slowly.
“Yes.”
Ethan asked the next obvious question.
“Why didn’t you know us?”
That was the question no adult in the terminal was prepared to answer.
Ryan looked at me.
I stood.
“This is not where we do this.”
He straightened immediately.
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Natalie.”
“Not here.”
His jaw tightened.
Five years ago, that expression would have frightened me.
Now it simply reminded me of Ethan.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“I just found out I have three children.”
“And they just found out you exist.”
That stopped him.
I continued.
“So whichever one of us is more shocked does not matter right now.”
His eyes flicked toward them.
Alex was holding Lily’s suitcase.
Ethan had gone unusually quiet.
Ryan took one breath.
Then another.
When he spoke again, his voice was controlled.
“What do you need?”
It was the first correct question he had asked.
“I need you not to follow us.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“Natalie—”
“Give me today.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded once.
I gave him my business card.
Not my home address.
Not my personal number.
My office information.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“Promise me.”
For one moment, I saw the man I used to know.
Not the billionaire.
Not the husband who discarded me.
Just Ryan.
Terrified.
“I’ll call.”
He let us leave.
In the taxi, nobody spoke for three full minutes.
Then Ethan said, “He looks like Alex.”
Alex objected.
“He looks like all of us.”
Lily said, “He looks sad.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Children notice the things adults try hardest to hide.
At the hotel, I ordered lunch none of us ate.
Then we sat together on the carpet between two beds.
I told them a version of the truth that belonged to five-year-olds.
Their father and I had loved each other.
We had been married.
Before I knew they were coming, he decided he wanted to be with someone else.