Chapter 2 - The Secret Ethan Made Me Keep
Ethan didn’t answer his mother.
That answered everything.
Margaret stared at him.
“Did you know?”
“Mom—”
“Did. You. Know?”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Lauren whispered, “Oh my God.”
Margaret stepped backward as though he had struck her.
Then she looked at me.
“You cheated on my son?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then explain how my married son isn’t the father of your baby.”
I almost laughed again.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Margaret had spent years judging me without knowing the first thing about her own son.
Ethan moved closer.
“Emily, maybe we should go.”
I turned on him.
“No. You wanted this secret protected. Now you can explain it.”
His jaw tightened.
Margaret pointed at me.
“She’s carrying another man’s child and you’re protecting her?”
Richard spoke quietly.
“Let him talk, Margaret.”
She snapped around.
“You stay out of this.”
“No.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
That made everyone look at him.
Richard had been married to Margaret for thirty-eight years. I had never once heard him interrupt her like that.
“Ethan,” he said. “Explain.”
Ethan sat back down.
His hands shook.
I knew how hard this was for him.
That was the terrible part.
Some piece of me still felt sorry for him.
Two years earlier, Ethan and I had gone to a fertility specialist after eighteen months of trying.
I had expected the problem to be me.
Margaret had certainly expected it to be me.
Instead, the doctor had called us into a small office and folded his hands on the desk.
Ethan’s sperm count wasn’t low.
It was zero.
More tests followed.
Then specialists.
Then genetic screening.
The final answer never changed.
Ethan could not biologically father a child.
He had sat in our car afterward with both hands locked around the steering wheel.
“Don’t tell my mother.”
That had been his first sentence.
Not, Are you okay?
Not, What do we do now?
Don’t tell my mother.
I had respected that.
Even when it cost me.
Back in Margaret’s dining room, Ethan looked at the floor.
“I’m infertile.”
Nobody spoke.
Margaret laughed.
A sharp, strange laugh.
“No.”
Ethan looked up.
“Mom.”
“No. That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.”
“You’re a Hollis man.”
I watched Lauren close her eyes in embarrassment.
Ethan’s face hardened.
“My last name doesn’t change a medical test.”
Margaret shook her head.
“You’re confused. Doctors make mistakes.”
“We saw three specialists.”
“No.”
“I had surgery. Biopsies. Genetic testing.”
Margaret grabbed the table.
“I said no.”
Richard stared at his son.
“How long have you known?”
“Almost two years.”
“And the baby?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Donor conception.”
Margaret’s head snapped toward me.
“You let some stranger impregnate your wife?”
“It was a fertility clinic.”
“That is not what I asked.”
I stepped between them.
“You don’t get to talk about our daughter like she’s something dirty.”
Margaret’s eyes sharpened.
“Our?”
“Yes. Ours.”
“She’s not his.”
Ethan finally raised his voice.
“She is my daughter.”
Everyone froze.
It was the first time all evening he had sounded certain about anything.
Margaret stared at him.
“You chose this?”
“Yes.”
“And you lied to me?”
“It wasn’t your business.”
Her face twisted.
“It became my business when she walked into my house carrying another man’s child.”
“That’s enough,” Richard said.
Margaret ignored him.
She stepped toward me.
“You knew my son couldn’t give me a grandson, and you sat at my table pretending this pregnancy continued our family.”
I felt something in me go cold.
“This pregnancy isn’t about continuing your family.”
“It absolutely is.”
“No. It’s about raising a child.”
Margaret looked disgusted.
I looked at Ethan.
“Tell her why we used a donor.”
He stared at me.
“Emily.”
“Tell her.”
He knew what I meant.
And from the look on his face, he did not want the next secret coming out.
Margaret noticed.
“What else?”
Nobody answered.
She turned to Ethan.
“What else have you hidden?”
I picked up my purse.
“The donor wasn’t my decision.”
Margaret frowned.
I looked directly at Ethan.
May you like
“You picked him.”
And Ethan’s father suddenly went perfectly still.
