"And your brother's four years of college tuition. The down payment on his apartment. All of that came from her."
Marina grabbed my arm. "Godfrey, let's not get divorced, okay?"
She pulled me into the corner, her voice dropping to a whisper laced with guilt. "About the baby... I was just so lonely that night. It only happened once. I never thought I'd actually get pregnant."
But I saw it. Right there on her face, beneath the performance of remorse, a flicker of something unmistakable.
Happiness.
"If you want to blame someone, blame me," she continued. "Don't blame Tristan. He's still just a kid..."
I laughed, and tears spilled from my eyes. "A twenty-six-year-old kid?"
I turned to leave.
My brother Derek Simmons blocked my path.
"Bro, she just made a mistake. People slip up."
"Just forgive her."
"When the baby's born, raise it as Nathan's little brother or sister. Problem solved."
Then four-year-old Nathan toddled over, wrapped his small arms around my leg, and sobbed. "Daddy, please don't leave Mommy. And don't be mad at Uncle Tristan. He's so nice to me..."
My own child. My own flesh and blood. Standing on Tristan's side.