The pregnancy test was still in Rachel’s hand when she told me there was a chance the baby belonged to another man. I was standing at the stove making Sunday breakfast, and for several seconds the only sound in our apartment was bacon crackling in the pan while the woman I had planned to marry waited for me to understand that our entire relationship had just split open.
Chapter 2
The morning before the appointment, I went to Ryan’s office.
He spotted me in the lobby and immediately headed toward the elevator.
“Ryan.”
He kept walking.
I raised my voice just enough for several coworkers to look over.
“We need to discuss tomorrow’s paternity test.”
He stopped.
“Not here.”
“Then choose somewhere.”
We went to a coffee shop across the street. Ryan sat hunched over his cup like a man waiting for sentencing.
“If it’s mine, I’ll sign away my rights,” he said immediately.
“That isn’t how parenthood works.”
“I don’t want a baby.”
“What did Rachel tell you about me?”
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
“That you two were basically finished.”
“We share a home.”
“She said it was financial convenience.”
“Anything else?”
“She said you hadn’t been a real couple in months.”
More lies.
I asked him to show me their messages. After resisting for a minute, he handed over his phone.
Rachel had written that I slept in the guest room.
False.
She told Ryan I was moving out soon.
False.
She told him she felt trapped with a man who cared more about work than her.
That one hurt because it contained just enough truth to make the lies believable.
“You knew she was cheating on somebody,” I said.
“I thought the relationship was dead.”
“And Aria thinks yours is alive?”
Ryan looked down.
I forwarded the messages I needed.
“Tell your fiancée.”
His head snapped up. “Please.”
“Tell her yourself, or eventually somebody else will.”
When I returned home, Rachel was unusually attentive. Dinner was waiting. Laundry had been folded. She kissed me twice in the kitchen and asked whether I wanted to watch an old movie together.
Guilt had apparently turned her into the girlfriend I had been asking her to be for months.
The next morning, we arrived at the prenatal clinic together.
Rachel held my hand in the waiting room.
“You’re acting weird,” she murmured.
“I’ve had a strange week.”
A nurse called us back. After drawing Rachel’s blood, she checked the chart.
“We’ll also need samples from all potential fathers.”
Rachel spoke quickly. “Just Jake.”
I looked at her.
“Ryan’s coming.”
She went pale.
“You invited him?”
“I thought clarity was what we wanted.”
“Jake, this is humiliating.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
Twenty minutes later, Ryan walked into the waiting room.
He wasn’t alone.
A tall brunette followed him with her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Rachel stood.
“Who is that?”
Ryan swallowed.
“Aria.”
His fiancée looked directly at Rachel.
“So you’re her.”
Rachel’s mouth opened.
“You didn’t tell me you were engaged.”
Aria laughed once without humor.
“And you didn’t tell him you lived with Jake. Apparently honesty wasn’t popular with either of you.”
“Aria, don’t—” Ryan began.
She silenced him with a look.
The physician, Dr. Martinez, was an older woman with silver hair and the calm authority of someone who had spent decades watching people bring chaos into examination rooms.
Once we were seated, she reviewed the situation.
“So Mr. Davidson and Mr. Mercer are the two possible biological fathers?”
Rachel answered quickly.
“Yes.”
Dr. Martinez looked from her to me.
“You are certain there are no other possibilities?”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
I noticed the hesitation.
So did Aria.
Ryan provided his sample. Before we left, Aria paused beside Rachel.
“One more thing.”
Rachel glared at her.
“What?”
Aria put a hand over her stomach.
“I’m three months pregnant.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Rachel looked as though someone had slapped her.
Aria’s voice remained controlled.
“So while you were wondering whether Ryan fathered your child, I was home planning a nursery for his.”
Outside, Rachel exploded.
“You brought them there to punish me.”
“No.”
“You wanted to humiliate me.”
“I wanted every possible father tested.”
“You could have protected me.”
I stared at her.
“From the consequences of your own choices?”
She crossed her arms.
“I made mistakes.”
“No. You made decisions. Several of them.”
For the next week we barely spoke.
I used that silence productively.
I signed a lease on a smaller apartment across town. I moved money from our shared household account into two equal portions, leaving hers untouched. I copied documents showing that the furniture, utilities, and existing lease were in my name.
Whatever the DNA result said, my relationship with Rachel was finished.
I simply needed one last answer.
A week later, all four of us returned to Dr. Martinez’s office.
Rachel sat rigidly.
Ryan bounced one knee.
Aria looked exhausted but composed.
Dr. Martinez entered carrying a file.
“I have results,” she said. “There are several things we need to discuss.”
Rachel gripped the arms of her chair.
“Just tell us.”
Dr. Martinez looked at me first.
“Mr. Davidson, you are not the biological father.”
I had expected the possibility.
It still hurt.
Then she turned toward Ryan.
“Mr. Mercer, you aren’t the biological father either.”
Ryan stopped moving.
“What?”
Rachel shot upright.
“That can’t be right.”
Dr. Martinez raised one hand.
“There’s more.”
The room fell silent.
She looked directly at Rachel.
“Your bloodwork indicates this was a chemical pregnancy. The pregnancy began but stopped developing extremely early. Your hCG levels are already falling.”
Rachel stared blankly.
“So there’s no baby?”
“I’m sorry. No viable pregnancy remains.”
Rachel started crying.
For a moment, despite everything, my anger disappeared.
A pregnancy loss was still a loss.
Then I remembered the other part.
“The fetal DNA you tested,” I said. “If neither Ryan nor I matched—”
Dr. Martinez nodded slowly.
“There was enough genetic material from the early pregnancy to exclude both of you.”
Aria’s eyes widened.
Ryan turned toward Rachel.
“Then whose was it?”
Rachel covered her face.
Nobody spoke.
I finally said, “Rachel.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
She shook her head.
“There was someone at a conference.”
Ryan actually laughed in disbelief.
Aria stared at him.
“Don’t you dare act morally offended.”
He stopped immediately.
I looked at Rachel.
“When?”
“March.”
The Denver conference.
Three months earlier.
“What was his name?”
She cried harder.
“Derek.”
I leaned back in my chair.
Ryan had been number two.
There was a number three.
And from the way Rachel refused to look at me, I had the terrible feeling the counting might not be finished.
