"All those appointments," I said. "You were on your phone. Checking, checking. I thought you were nervous."
"I was applying for jobs in the waiting room."
"Good God, Ryan."
"I know."
Hope made a small sound in the bassinet, that soft newborn noise that isn't quite crying yet. Neither of us moved.
"You were on your phone."
"You used a baby as an exit," I said.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I used my daughter as an exit because I was drowning and I couldn't tell my wife."
I let that sit in the air between us. I let it be as ugly as it was.
"I built my whole life around holding this family together," I said finally.
"You used a baby as an exit."
"After Mom and Dad. I was going to give you and Melissa a daughter because I couldn't get them back. And you were going to let me carry your lie into a nursery."
