Chapter 4
Ryan looked like someone had struck him.
"That's impossible."
Margaret backed into the stairwell wall.
"I remember you."
"No."
"You were wearing a gray sweatshirt."
Ryan stared.
"I owned a gray sweatshirt."
"Your left hand was bandaged."
His eyes changed.
I saw it.
A memory.
Something.
"What happened to your hand?" I asked.
Ryan swallowed.
"I cut it when they rushed Emily into surgery."
Margaret nodded slowly.
"You had a white gauze wrap around your palm."
Ryan's voice became weak.
"I don't remember being in the nursery."
"But you were."
"I wasn't."
"You asked me which baby was yours."
Ryan grabbed the railing.
I watched his face.
"Ryan."
"I don't remember."
Margaret looked between us.
"He seemed disoriented."
"I had been awake almost twenty-four hours."
"You asked me why there were two babies with the same last name."
I frowned.
"The same last name?"
Margaret nodded.
"That's another detail I never understood."
She looked at me.
"Baby Eighteen's mother's married name was also Hart."
Ryan went completely still.
I noticed.
Margaret noticed.
"Ryan?"
He stared down the stairwell.
I stepped closer.
"Who was she?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not."
But he was.
I could feel it.
After ten years together, I knew every version of his silence.
This was the silence he used when he wanted time to build an answer.
"Who was the other woman named Hart?"
"I don't know."
"Ryan."
Margaret suddenly whispered, "Rebecca."
His face collapsed.
That was all I needed.
"Who is Rebecca?"
Ryan closed his eyes.
"Emily."
"Who is she?"
"My cousin."
Margaret shook her head.
"No."
Ryan looked at her.
"What?"
"The woman who gave birth to Baby Eighteen was Rebecca Hart."
"I know."
"You listed her as your cousin?"
"She was my cousin."
Margaret stared at him.
"Then why did your mother tell hospital staff Rebecca was your first wife?"
Silence.
I actually laughed.
A broken, ugly sound.
"Your what?"
Ryan turned toward me.
"It isn't what you think."
"That sentence should be illegal."
"Emily."
"Were you married before me?"
"No."
Margaret looked confused.
"That's what Diane told us."
Ryan dragged both hands over his face.
"Rebecca and I were engaged."
The stairwell suddenly felt too small.
"Engaged?"
"I was twenty-three."
"We've been married eight years."
"It was before you."
"You told me you had never been engaged."
"I didn't want—"
"You lied."
"Yes."
At least he finally said it.
"Why?"
"Because Rebecca destroyed my family."
Margaret whispered, "Or Diane did."
Ryan looked at her sharply.
"What do you know?"
"Enough to know your mother controlled every conversation that night."
Ryan turned toward me.
"Rebecca and I grew up together."
I stared at him.
"Cousins?"
"Not biologically. Her mother married my uncle when Rebecca was twelve. Everyone called us cousins."
"And then you got engaged?"
"When we were older."
"What happened?"
"She disappeared."
"What do you mean, disappeared?"
"Six weeks before the wedding."
"Why?"
"I didn't know."
"You never found her?"
"My mother said Rebecca left with someone else."
I stared at Margaret.
"Four years ago she gave birth at this hospital."
"Yes."
"On the same night Lily was born."
"Yes."
I turned back to Ryan.
"Did you see Rebecca that night?"
"No."
"Did you know she was here?"
"No."
"Did Diane?"
Ryan hesitated.
My anger exploded.
"Did your mother know?"
"I don't know!"
The stairwell echoed.
Margaret flinched.
Ryan lowered his voice.
"I'm sorry."
I stepped away.
"Your mother had two newborn girls in the same nursery. One was mine. One belonged to your former fiancée."
"Emily—"
"And someone moved their identification cards."
"Yes."
"And you somehow appeared in that nursery even though you don't remember."
"I was exhausted."
"Stop saying that like exhaustion erases four hours."
"I don't know what happened!"
"Then start remembering."
A door opened below us.
Voices.
Margaret stiffened.
"We need to leave."
We exited through another floor and reached the parking garage.
Margaret refused to come with us.
"Where will you go?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Give me your number."
She did.
Then she gripped my arm.
"Do a DNA test."
Ryan stepped forward.
"We know Lily is ours."
"You know you love her."
Margaret's voice softened.
"That's different from knowing what happened."
I hated her for saying it.
Because she was right.
We drove back to the hotel in silence.
Lily was with Claire.
Ryan had called her when he realized I'd left.
My sister had driven over immediately.
When we entered the room, Lily ran toward me.
"Mommy!"
I dropped to my knees and hugged her.
Nothing else mattered for those few seconds.
Her hair smelled like strawberry shampoo.
Her arms were warm around my neck.
Mine.
Whatever biology said.
Mine.
Claire watched us.
"What the hell is going on?"
Ryan shut the door.
"We need your help."
Twenty minutes later, Claire knew almost everything.
She stared at Ryan.
"You had a fiancée and never told my sister?"
"I know how it sounds."
"It sounds like you lied for eight years."
"I did."
Claire pointed at him.
"If Lily weren't sitting in the next room, I'd throw you through that window."
"Claire."
She looked at me.
"Are you okay?"
"No."
"Good. Because saying you're okay would scare me more."
Ryan's phone rang.
Diane.
He declined.
She called again.
And again.
Claire said, "Answer it."
Ryan hesitated.
I nodded.
He put it on speaker.
"Hello."
Diane didn't bother greeting him.
"Where is Emily?"
"With me."
"Did she go to St. Matthew's?"
My eyes met Ryan's.
"Why?"
"Answer me."
Ryan's voice hardened.
"Did you send someone there?"
"You need to stop digging."
"What happened the night Lily was born?"
"I told you. Nothing."
"Who is Baby Girl Eighteen?"
Silence.
Then Diane whispered, "Ryan."
"Rebecca had a baby that night."
Diane inhaled sharply.
"Who told you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters very much."
"Did you know Rebecca was there?"
"Ryan, listen to me—"
"Did you know?"
"Yes."
The room froze.
I felt Claire take my hand.
Ryan's voice cracked.
"You knew."
"She contacted me."
"When?"
"Two weeks before."
"Why?"
Diane exhaled.
"She wanted money."
"For what?"
"She claimed the child was yours."
Ryan dropped the phone.
I stared at him.
He stared at nothing.
Diane's voice continued from the floor.
"Ryan?"
He slowly picked it up.
"What did you say?"
"I knew she was lying."
"How?"
"Because you hadn't seen her in years."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"Ryan."
"Was Rebecca's baby mine?"
Diane was silent for so long I thought the call had disconnected.
Then she said something that changed everything.
"I made sure you would never have to find out."
Ryan's face emptied.
"What does that mean?"
"I protected you."
"From my own child?"
"You already had a family!"
I covered my mouth.
Ryan looked like he might be sick.
"You switched the babies."
"No."
"You switched them."
"I corrected a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"Rebecca."
Her name came out like poison.
"Rebecca was the mistake."
I grabbed the phone.
"Where is she now?"
Diane became very quiet.
"I don't know."
"You knew where she was four years ago."
"That was different."
"Where is Rebecca?"
"I said I don't know."
Claire leaned toward the phone.
"Then we'll find her."
Diane laughed once.
Coldly.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Rebecca Hart died three years ago."
Ryan stopped breathing.
I stared at him.
May you like
Diane continued.
"And before she died, she left something for Lily."
