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“But she wanted to make it pass as my baby?” he asked.
She slipped off the bed, and wrapped herself in the sheet as she grabbed her clothes from the floor. “Yes. She loved you though, and knew you would make a better father. The other guy was a mistake.”
A mistake. The word punched his gut. The mistake would have been lying to him. “Did he even know she carried his baby?”
She wriggled into a pair of jeans, and avoided looking at him. “No, as far as I know she never told him. I asked her to tell you. I said you had the right to know.”
He gritted his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She pulled a sweater over her head, and tossed the sheet on the bed. “Because it wasn’t my place.”
“Not your place? You’re talking about people’s lives, Tiffany. My life. Some kid’s life. Why didn’t you tell me after she died?”
“Because telling you would have been even worse. Can you imagine? I would have taken the last thing you had of her, the memory of a loving woman. And you’d hate me even more,” she said the last sentence in a small voice.
His temples throbbed and he rubbed them like they were about to burst. “Is that what it comes down to? My feelings toward you?” Was she so selfish she didn’t want to make things worse for herself? He’d carried the weight of Patricia’s death for years, unable to shuck off his guilt for failing to save her life and the life of his unborn child. If only Tiffany had been honest with him about the truth. Maybe then he’d have been able to move on.
She lifted her chin. “No. Of course not. I mean… maybe a little. But just because I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, doesn’t mean I was wrong.”
“Deceit is always wrong. Can’t you see that? You lied to me. Hell, you still do. I had to yank the confession from you. Just when I thought you couldn't surprise me, Tiffany—"
She erased the gap between them, but this time not to kiss him. With an angry spark in her eyes, her lips hardened into a flat line. She gave him a layered look, as if she stood on the opposite side of a boxing match. “And because of you, I broke it. You know what? I’m glad we had this conversation. You’re just as inflexible and stubborn as always, and a few good fucks won’t change reality. Leave my room, Santiago. I’m calling a car service and getting out of your fucking life.”
