“And you didn’t ask me.” My voice was shaking now. “You didn’t ask me one single question. You didn’t say, Claire, is she mine? You just decided. You looked at a three-minute-old baby and decided I was a liar and a cheat, and you threw us away like garbage.”
“I know.”
“You put my clothes in trash bags, Ben!”
“I know!” He was sobbing now. “I know. I know I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Never.”
Diane made a small noise. I turned to her.
“And you,” I said. “You knew. You knew the whole time.”
She lifted her chin, but her lip was trembling.
“Yes,” she said.
“You brought me soup. You sat at my kitchen table and held my hand and told me it wasn’t my fault, and you knew exactly whose fault it was. You knew, and you said nothing.”
