Page 57

“No. You called me a bitch in front of everyone we loved. You said you never wanted to see my lying, cheating face again. You took a video we’d made in private and played it for the whole club without my consent.”

I could still hear it coming out of the speakers. I’d begged him to turn it off, and he’d asked why I didn’t want everybody to see what I’d done.

“Wren, I—”

I held up my hand. “I’m talking. Dutch told them to turn away. That’s the only reason they didn’t all watch it. You didn’t stop it. I can understand why cheating terrifies you. I remember what your father did to your mother, and I know you’d promised yourself you’d never be made a fool of like that. But we’re not them, Seb. You knew me, and you wouldn’t let me speak.”

He looked at the floor.

“I don’t need you to stop being jealous. I need you to believe me when I tell you the truth.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough. “For playing the video. For what I called you. I know saying it doesn’t fix any of it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I wanted to go to him. I was angry enough to stay in my chair. “And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering which version of you will come through the door. The man who loved me, or the man who decided he knew what I’d done without asking me.”

He pulled out the chair opposite and sat. “I’ve been trying so hard to make sure you never see that man again.”

“I can tell.”

For nine weeks he’d asked before every visit with Sparrow. I’d watched him learn which cry meant she was hungry and which one meant she wanted somebody to pick her up. She reached for him now when he came through the door.

He leaned forward. “Nine weeks ago, you told me why you hadn’t told me about Sparrow. You thought I might use what I can do to take her.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still think that?”

“No.”

He looked down at the table. “What changed?”

“You did. For nine weeks, every time you could have taken a decision away from me, you gave it back.” I waited until he looked at me. “It wasn’t only what you could do that frightened me. It was knowing you could be wrong about me and still be absolutely certain you were right. I couldn’t risk you becoming that certain about where our daughter belonged.”

“I understand.”

“When I found you, I was angry about everything I’d missed,” he said. “Your pregnancy. Her birth. For a moment I wanted to ask why you’d kept it from me. Then I remembered what I’d done.”

“You’re allowed to be angry.”

“Not at you.” He held my eyes. “I hate what I missed. I don’t blame you for why I missed it.”

“Do you want to know some of it?”

His head came up. “Yes.”

“My first scan was at eleven weeks. Robin came with me. I was so nervous I couldn’t look at the screen at first. He squeezed my hand, and when I finally looked, there she was.” I curled my hands around the edge of the table. “My pregnancy was easy. The first time she kicked hard enough for somebody else to feel it, Robin was cooking. He put his hand on my stomach and forgot about the pan until the smoke alarm went off.”

Seb smiled, but his eyes were full of tears.

“I was in labor for nineteen hours. She was born at three twenty in the afternoon. Robin stayed with me the whole time.” I looked at Seb. “I wanted you there too. I was still afraid to tell you about her.”

“I’m glad you had Robin,” he said.

I switched the kettle on again and made the tea we’d forgotten about. Seb wiped his eyes while I was at the counter. When I set his mug down, he pulled it toward him.

“I was jealous last night,” he said. “I hated seeing those men look at you. I knew they would. I still wanted to be the only one.”

I smiled despite myself.