3: 3

My mother snatched the phone away first.

"You're seeing things."

Her face was flustered, and she shoved it into her bag without even turning off the screen.

I stared at her. "Corinne's pregnant?"

My father rapped his chopsticks hard against the rim of his bowl. "She just went through a breakup. She's suffering enough. Stop prying into her private business."

"Whose child is it?"

"None of your concern."

The birthday dinner ended in a rush.

My parents wouldn't leave Corinne be, and they insisted on dragging me back to the Matthews villa to wait for news.

I sat on the living room sofa for two hours, my ankle swollen and throbbing until it went nearly numb.

At eleven at night, the front door finally opened.

Gilbert walked in, his collar askew, his sleeves carrying the smell of hospital disinfectant.

Corinne came in behind him, held up by an assistant, her face still pale.

When he saw me sitting there, Gilbert's steps faltered.

I ignored my parents' warning looks and asked him straight out. "Did you know she was pregnant?"

He was silent for two seconds. He didn't deny it.

"Yes."

"The father won't take responsibility, and she's in a bad way. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you reading into it."

"Were you afraid I'd read into it, or afraid I'd find out?"

Corinne heard that, and the tears came at once.

"Faith, the baby is Dick James's. He disappeared the moment he found out I was pregnant. Gilbert was only helping me find a doctor."

"I never meant to come between you two. I was just so scared, all alone overseas. Besides Gilbert, I didn't know who else I could turn to."

I asked, "Why not come to me?"

Corinne stopped short.

"Because all you ever want is to find him."

I took out the project file. "I can hand Skyhaven over for seven days, and I won't get involved with the baby. But starting today, stop letting Gilbert take care of you."

My father sneered. "What gives you the right to make decisions for Gilbert?"

"The fact that I'm his wife."

My mother spoke up suddenly. "Faith, Corinne's carrying a child. She needs a man around to look after her. Gilbert's steady, and he's family. Don't be so petty."

I looked around at the whole roomful of them and understood, all at once, that they'd settled this among themselves long ago.

I was the last to know.

Gilbert closed his hand around my wrist. "Let's go home first."

On the way back, he drove himself, with Corinne in the back seat.

As we passed a baby store, she suddenly told the driver to stop.

"I still don't know if I can keep the baby. I just want to look. I won't buy anything."

Gilbert checked the time. "Ten minutes."

I sat in the car, my ankle throbbing in waves.

Twenty minutes later, they still hadn't come out.

I got up on my crutches and went into the store, and I saw Gilbert holding a pair of pale yellow baby shoes.

Corinne stood beside him, smiling. "You said it before. A daughter should wear yellow, like the sun."

He'd said those words to me once.

Two years ago, when I was pregnant, he'd picked out a pair of yellow shoes, full of joy, saying our daughter was sure to be like the sun.

Then I lost the baby, and the doctors declared it would be nearly impossible for me to conceive again.

He put all the baby things away and never mentioned them.

I thought he was afraid of hurting me.

So it turned out he had simply handed that hope over, untouched, to another woman.

Gilbert turned and saw me. He crossed to me in a few quick steps. "Why did you come in?"

"My foot hurts."

He bent to check the cast. "I'll take you to the hospital."

But Corinne came over with the baby shoes in hand. "Faith, don't misunderstand. I just picked these out. Gilbert only said they were pretty."

Gilbert stepped in front of me, blocking my view. "Corinne didn't mean anything by it. Don't make a scene in front of everyone."

I raised my hand and slapped him.

The store went silent in an instant.

Gilbert's face turned aside. It was a long moment before he looked back at me.

"Feel better now?"

"No."

I reached for the shoes, and Corinne instinctively shrank back.

In the tug of it, the paper bag dropped to the floor.

A prenatal test slip slid out.

In the field for the father's name, three characters were written, clear as day.

Gilbert Winfield.

4: 4

I bent to pick up the prenatal slip.

Gilbert was faster, closing his fist over the paper.

"We'll talk about this at home."

I steadied myself against the shelf. "We'll talk about it here."

Corinne shook her head, crying. "Faith, it isn't what you think."

"The hospital filled it in wrong. Gilbert went with me to open the file, and the nurse assumed he was the father."

I kept my eyes on Gilbert. "You. Talk."

He was silent for a long time.

Long enough that the clerk quietly killed the music, long enough that my foot had gone numb with pain.

"The child might be mine."

He finally spoke.

"The night before Corinne flew back, she got drunk and I went to get her. Whatever happened the next day, I can't remember clearly."

No denial. No explanation.

Three words—can't remember—and three years of our marriage was standing at the edge of a cliff.

I asked, "What do you plan to do?"

"Wait until the baby's born and do a paternity test."

"And if it's yours?"

His throat moved. "I'll take responsibility."

I laughed. "How, exactly?"

Corinne cut in through her tears. "I won't take Gilbert from you. I can leave with the baby. Faith, don't blame him—I was drunk, I mistook him for Dick."

"Shut up."

For the first time, I cut her off in front of everyone.

She froze, tears clinging to her lashes as if she'd suffered some unbearable wrong.

Gilbert moved her behind him. "It's my fault. Don't take it out on her."

I looked at that small movement, and suddenly even anger felt like too much.

Back home, Gilbert carried me upstairs.

He took off the loosened brace, then brought an ice pack and laid it on my ankle.

His hands were still just as practiced.

"I'll get to the bottom of the baby thing."

"Where's the ring?"

His fingers stopped. "What?"

"My wedding ring."

He took the ring from his coat pocket and set it on the nightstand.

There was a small moon engraved inside the band now.

Corinne's nickname was Moon.

I flicked it with a fingertip, and the ring rolled to the edge of the carpet.

"You didn't take it to be resized. You took it to have that carved."

"She said she wanted something to mark the baby's birth. I didn't notice the clerk gave me the wrong ring."

I closed my eyes. "Get out."

"Faith, with her it really was an accident."

"Out."

He stood there a long time, and in the end he shut the door for me.

The next day was the annual charity gala the Matthews family hosted.

I hadn't planned to go, but my mother came in person and took away my crutches.

"The media and the elders will all be there tonight. If you don't show up, what will people say about Corinne?"

"She's carrying my husband's child, and you're worried what people will say about her?"

Her face darkened. "Gilbert had too much to drink that night. Corinne wasn't clear-headed either. One is your husband, one is your sister. Won't you be satisfied until you've driven them both to their deaths?"

I pushed off the edge of the bed and stood. "So I'm the one who deserves to die?"

She looked away. "That's not what I said."

Before the gala started, Gilbert came to get me.

He'd brought a pair of flats, crouched to put them on for me, then set the crutches within my reach.

"Tonight your father will announce that Corinne is taking over Skyhaven. Don't make a scene. After she has the baby, I'll give the project back to you."

"And me? After the baby is born, what am I?"

His hand closed around my ankle, tightening without his meaning it to.

"You're still Mrs. Winfield. If the child is mine, we'll raise it together. He can call you Mom."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"Gilbert, you really are cruel."

Halfway through the gala, my father called Corinne up to the stage.

The big screen lit up with the renderings for the Skyhaven project, the credit line already changed to Corinne's name.

As the guests applauded, Corinne turned to me with red eyes and thanked me. "The one I owe the most for this project is my sister. She made it possible for me."

Then my father put up her prenatal photo.

"There's another happy announcement today. Corinne is pregnant, and the baby's father is Gilbert Winfield."

The room erupted.

I looked at the seat beside me.

At some point Gilbert had already gone up onto the stage, shielding a pale Corinne from the cameras.

My mother sat down next to me with a document in her hand.

"You and Gilbert divorce first. When the baby's born, do the test. If it isn't his, the two of you remarry."

"And if it is?"

"A child can't grow up without a whole family."

She pressed the pen into my hand, her voice dropping low. "It'll be hard for you to have children later, and Corinne's baby is your nephew too. Gilbert is willing to let you stay in the house and care for the child. He's already looking out for you."

On the stage, the host mistook them for an engaged couple.

Gilbert didn't correct it.

He only watched me across the crowd, his eyes calm, certain that in the end I would give in.

I opened the divorce agreement.

The house, the savings, the shares—not one of them was mine.

An added clause stated that after the divorce I could still live in the Winfield home, responsible for caring for Corinne and her child.

So they'd even parceled out the rest of my life.

I didn't cry, and I didn't demand answers.

I signed my name on the last page and slid across, along with it, another document I had prepared long before.

When she made out the title, the color drained from her face.