\u201cI know. I just\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe did it together,\u201d I said again. \u201cAnd in a few hours, we get to meet them.\u201d<\/p>\n
His forehead dropped against mine, and he let out a shaky breath.<\/p>\n
I remembered the bathroom floor then, just for a second. The cold tile against my back. The test on the rim of the tub with its one stubborn line. I had cried until I couldn\u2019t breathe, and Kevin had slid down beside me without a word.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t said it would be okay. He didn\u2019t have an answer. He just sat there, his shoulder pressed against mine, for an hour.<\/p>\n
That was what mattered. He stayed.<\/p>\n
At the hospital, the tests took longer than they should have. Then a doctor with kind, tired eyes came in.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a complication,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019ll need general anesthesia.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach dropped. \u201cSo I won\u2019t be awake?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. But you\u2019ll be safe, and so will they.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gripped Kevin\u2019s hand until my knuckles went pale. \u201cPromise me you\u2019ll be there when I wake up. Promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI promise.\u201d He kissed my knuckles. \u201cFirst face you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n
They wheeled me down the hall. I watched Kevin until the doors closed, already imagining him holding our daughters when I woke.<\/p>\n
The first face I saw was a nurse\u2019s.<\/p>\n
\u201cCongratulations, Mom,\u201d she said, smiling. \u201cTwo beautiful girls. Both doing great.\u201d<\/p>\n
She tucked them into my arms, one at a time, her hand steady under my elbow. They were so small. One of them wrapped her whole fist around my pinky, and I swear the whole world narrowed down to that grip.<\/p>\n
Kevin has to see this, I thought.<\/p>\n
I turned my head, ready to say look<\/em>.<\/p>\n The chair by the window was empty.<\/p>\n Okay, I told myself. Bathroom. Coffee. Calling his mother. There were a hundred harmless reasons he might have broken his promise.<\/p>\n I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and called him. It rang and rang. Voicemail.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, it\u2019s me,\u201d I said, still smiling. \u201cI\u2019m awake. Come see your daughters.\u201d<\/p>\n I waited a minute, then called again. The smile got harder to hold. He had promised. First face I\u2019d see. Kevin didn\u2019t break promises. He assembled cribs on a schedule, for heaven\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me,\u201d I said to the nurse, trying to keep my voice light. \u201cHave you seen my husband?\u201d<\/p>\n Her smile slid right off her face.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get the doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n Nobody gets the doctor over a missing husband. My pulse started to climb.<\/p>\n The doctor came in with his hands folded in front of him, and he looked at me strangely.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, your husband saw the babies.\u201d He paused. \u201cYou really don\u2019t know why he left?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLeft?\u201d My mouth was dry. \u201cWhat are you talking about? Where is he?\u201d<\/p>\n He pulled a chair close.<\/p>\n \u201cWhile you were still asleep after the surgery, Kevin came to talk to me. He told me something I absolutely wasn\u2019t expecting to hear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n He exhaled slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe said his mother had called. She said she had proof the girls weren\u2019t his.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I stared at him. \u201cHe knows everything we went through. He was there for every single shot.\u201d<\/p>\n Something hot rose in my chest and pushed the disbelief aside. Kevin hadn\u2019t answered any of my calls, so I scrolled to his mother\u2019s name and hit call, my thumb shaking.<\/p>\n She picked up on the second ring.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did you tell him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I think you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI really don\u2019t. What did you say to my husband?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t raise your voice, dear, it isn\u2019t good for you.\u201d She sounded almost kind, which was worse. \u201cI\u2019ll come and show you, since you\u2019re so confused. Stay right there.\u201d<\/p>\n She hung up.<\/p>\n Stay right there. As if I could go anywhere.<\/p>\n I tried Kevin again. Voicemail.<\/p>\n \u201cEnough!\u201d<\/p>\n I pushed back the blanket and tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The pain hit like a hot wire through my belly. I gasped and nearly folded in half.<\/p>\n \u201cWhoa, whoa, easy.\u201d The nurse was at my side in a second, lowering me back onto the pillows. \u201cYou just had major surgery. You can\u2019t go anywhere yet.\u201d<\/p>\n I lay there breathing hard, tears stinging. Was this what it came to? Ten years of fighting, and I couldn\u2019t even chase my own husband down. I couldn\u2019t fetch him and make him look at me. I had two newborns who needed me, in a body that wouldn\u2019t obey.<\/p>\n This was the exact moment I\u2019d planned to lean on Kevin, and he was the one who had walked out.<\/p>\n One of the girls started to cry, a thin, furious wail. I reached for her bassinet, and my stomach screamed.<\/p>\n \u201cLet me,\u201d the nurse said gently.<\/p>\n I hated how badly I wanted to say no. I said, \u201cThank you,\u201d instead, and watched a stranger settle my daughter against my chest.<\/p>\n Then I called my mother.<\/p>\n \u201cHi, sweetheart! Are they here? Are they\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMom.\u201d I\u2019d planned to sound calm. I\u2019d practiced it. \u201cKevin left. He got a call from his mother and he left, and he won\u2019t pick up, and I can\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n My voice broke clean in half.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m coming,\u201d my mother said. \u201cDon\u2019t move. I\u2019m getting my coat.\u201d<\/p>\n She arrived in twenty minutes, her hair half pinned. She had barely kissed the girls when the door swung open again.<\/p>\n My mother-in-law walked in. She wore her good pearls and carried a large envelope under her arm.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d she said, looking at me and not the babies. \u201cHere we are.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShow me,\u201d I said. \u201cWhatever you told him.\u201d<\/p>\n She laid out photographs on my blanket, one by one. The first were of the newborns, pictures Kevin must have sent her. She held one up beside her phone.<\/p>\n \u201cLook at that nose. Do you see it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSee what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrian\u2019s nose. Brian\u2019s chin.\u201d She smiled triumphantly. \u201cYou\u2019ve obviously been having an affair with him.\u201d<\/p>\n Brian. Our friend of twelve years. Brian, who had cried at our wedding.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re three hours old,\u201d my mother said, and her voice could have frozen soup. \u201cThey look like potatoes.\u201d<\/p>\n