“Mary, what are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I don’t want to see you right now.”
I held the test result up in front of him.
“Look. I took a test too, and it says Austin’s not my son either.”
Paul’s expression changed from anger to something close to fear. I had expected shock, maybe relief — but not fear.
“Do you realize what that means?” he asked quietly.
“It means that the lab is a joke.”
“That lab is one of the best. I actually did another test at a second lab. The results were the same,” Paul murmured.
“But I didn’t cheat on you!”
“I believe you now. But you don’t seem to understand what this means,” Paul said slowly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Austin’s not our son,” Paul said.
“No. That’s impossible. The only way that could be true is if the hospital switched him with another baby. But that’s insane. That kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore, right?”
But Paul’s face was serious. Dead serious.
“I think we need to go to the hospital where you gave birth.”
***
Minutes later, we arrived at the hospital and explained the situation to the nurse at the front desk. She walked away to review the files. I was shaking the entire time while we waited.