The doctor glanced between them. “And you are?”
“Their father,” Adrian said.
Nora didn’t contradict him.
At the hotel—a suite Adrian upgraded on the spot—Margaret helped Nora feed and bathe the babies while Adrian ordered food. Enough for a week.
When the babies were finally asleep, Nora collapsed on the couch.
“I haven’t slept in a bed in three weeks,” she said distantly.
Margaret sat beside her. “Why didn’t you go to a shelter?”
“I tried. They were full. And…” Nora’s voice dropped. “They wanted to separate us. Put the babies in foster care temporarily. I couldn’t.”
Adrian felt sick. “You’ve been on the street for three weeks?”
“Parks. Libraries. Coffee shops. Wherever they’d let us stay a few hours.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t,” Nora said sharply. “Don’t act horrified now. This is what happens when men like you erase women like me.”
The words hit like a slap.
Adrian sat across from her. “You’re right. I erased you. I prioritized my career, my image, my comfort. I told myself you were being dramatic because admitting you might be pregnant meant my life would get complicated.”
“It did get complicated,” Nora said bitterly. “Just not for you.”