“But you didn’t.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
He glanced toward Richard.
“Of what you would see when you learned who my father was.”
I stepped closer.
“So instead, you let me fall in love with you without knowing half the story.”
Pain moved across his face.
“I know.”
“And then I got pregnant.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“And you disappeared.”
“I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you.”
My voice cracked.
“You left. I really don’t care what you called it while you were doing it.”
“Claire—”
“I spent thirteen days alone beside our daughter in intensive care.”
His face crumpled.
I continued.
“I went through pregnancy without you. Labor without you. I filled out her paperwork without you. When the doctors asked about family medical history, I had to say I didn’t know because her father had vanished.”
“I’m sorry.”
