The woman pushed past the doctor.
Her eyes landed on the baby.
She made a broken sound.
“Oh, Lucy.”
Then she looked at me.
“You.”
I felt cold.
“Do I know you?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then she pointed at Michael.
“But he does.”
My husband closed his eyes.
That was the moment I knew the baby wasn’t the only thing he’d been keeping from me.
The doctor asked the woman to sit down.
She refused.
“My daughter died tonight,” she said. “And that baby is hers.”
I looked down at Lucy.
The tiny girl was asleep against my chest.
“What does that have to do with me?”
The woman stared at me.
“Everything.”
Michael finally spoke.
“Her name is Eleanor.”
I looked at him.
“You know her?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
Eleanor did.
“My daughter was pregnant with Lucy. She gave birth tonight. There were complications.”
