My brother looked at his wife. Then he looked at me. And then he said the words that broke everything.
“I’m sorry, but I have to give up the baby. I’m not taking her with me!”
And he placed her back in my arms.
“What are you talking about?”
I couldn’t breathe. My body was still shaking from labor, and now my brother, my twin, my best friend, had just handed me his daughter as if she were a package delivered to the wrong address.
“Ryan, she’s your daughter,” I said, and I could hear my voice trembling. “What is going on?”
Melissa was out of her chair now, her hands out, tears in her eyes.
“Why? Ryan, why can’t we take our daughter home? Tell me right now!”
I couldn’t breathe.
My brother wouldn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the floor, his face going that awful shade of red I recognized from when we were kids and he’d done something he couldn’t take back.
