He looked past my shoulder, straight at Cole.
His jaw was tight, his eyes cold.
I knew then that this wasn’t a reconciliation.
He’d come because he believed he’d finally found proof that marrying Cole had been a mistake.
“I need to talk to your husband,” he said.
Cole stepped into the hallway, calm as ever.
My father wasted no time with his accusations.
He’d finally found proof that marrying Cole had been a mistake.
“I saw you,” he said. “Outside County Hospital. You were holding hands with a little boy.”
The air in the room seemed to thin.
“I’ve done my reading, Cole,” my father continued. “I know about your past. The touring, the friends you kept, the years nobody could account for.”
I expected Cole to ask what Dad was talking about.
Instead, he went completely still, and that frightened me more than the accusation.
“I know about your past.”
Cole’s face gave away nothing.
“Dad, stop,” I said. “Whatever you think you saw—”
“I know what I saw,” he snapped. “Is he yours, Cole? A son from before her? Some woman you never mentioned?”
My stomach turned to stone.
“Is he yours, Cole? A son from before her?”
“That’s insane,” I whispered.
“Is it?” My father turned his stare on me. “Ask him. Ask him who the boy is. Ask him why he never told you.”
I looked at Cole, waiting for the easy denial, the quick laugh, anything to make this stop.
Cole didn’t deny knowing the boy.
That was the first moment my father’s accusation stopped sounding impossible.
I looked at Cole, waiting for the easy denial
“Cole,” I said softly. “Tell him he’s wrong.”
Cole met my eyes for one long second, then looked away.
“I’m not going to talk about this.”
That wasn’t the answer of a man who had nothing to explain.
But the look on Cole’s face wasn’t guilt either.
“Tell him he’s wrong.”
It was something I couldn’t read yet.
