Chapter 6: Breakfast for Two
He came at eight-fifteen.
Alone.
I heard his car in the driveway and had the eggs already in the pan.
I didn't go to the door.
I let him knock, then let himself in the way he always used to, the way he had stopped doing after the wedding.
He stood in the kitchen doorway.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
"Sit down," I said.
"Coffee's on the counter."
He poured himself a cup and sat at the table — the same chair he had sat in as a teenager doing homework while I cooked.
He wrapped both hands around the mug.
I put a plate in front of him.
He didn't touch it.
"She doesn't know I'm here," he said.
"I know."
"If she finds out—" He stopped.
"Marcus." I sat down across from him.
"What happens if she finds out?"
He looked at his coffee.
"She gets upset."
"How upset?"
He didn't answer right away.
His thumb moved along the edge of the mug.
"She cries," he said finally.
"For a long time.
And then she tells me I chose my family over her and the baby.
And then she doesn't speak to me for days." He paused.
"Last time it was eleven days."
"Last time you did what?"
"Called you without telling her first."
I kept my face still.
"You called me in February and she didn't speak to you for eleven days."
"It was only twenty minutes."
"Marcus."
"Mom, she's under a lot of stress.
The pregnancy has been hard.
She's scared."
"I understand that," I said.
"I also need you to hear what I'm about to tell you."
I laid out everything.
The probate record.
Patricia Holt.
The trust.
The message thread.
I read him the relevant lines directly from my phone.
He sat very still.
*She'll sign.
She doesn't have anyone else to turn to.*
*The trust transfers when the baby is registered with Mom as primary grandparent on record.*
When I finished, he hadn't moved.
"Where did you get this?" he said.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes.
It matters." His voice had an edge I hadn't heard before.
"Because Elaine is going to say it was fabricated.
She's going to say someone is trying to destroy our marriage."
"Is that what you think?"
He put his face in his hands.
Stayed there for a moment.
"I don't know what to think," he said.
"Then let me ask you something simpler." I leaned forward.
"Did you read the rules list before she gave it to me?
All twelve of them?"
A long silence.
"She said it was standard.
That all new mothers do something like this."
"Did you read it."
"...No."
"Did you know about the legal draft letter?"
His head came up.
"What legal letter?"
I watched his face.
The confusion was real.
"She had a second document," I said.
"A notice of intent to restrict contact.
Citing incidents that never happened.
Dates I wasn't even in the state."
"She didn't—" He stopped.
"She told me she had spoken to a lawyer about protecting her rights as a mother.
She didn't say there was a letter."
"There was a letter, Marcus.
She put it on the table in front of me."
He pushed back from the table.
Stood up.
Walked to the window.
"I need to talk to her," he said.
"I know you do.
But before you do, I need you to talk to Ted."
He turned around.
"Uncle Ted?"
"He's seen the documents.
He wants to speak with you."
Marcus looked at me for a long moment.
Something moved across his face — not anger, not denial.
Something closer to a man realizing he had been standing in a room with no windows and only just noticed.
"She loves me," he said.
It came out quieter than I think he intended.
"I believe that may be true," I said carefully.
"And it doesn't change what's in those messages."
He picked up his coffee.
Set it back down without drinking.
"Set up the call with Ted," he said.
"Don't tell her yet."
"Okay."
May you like
He looked at his untouched plate.
Then he picked up his fork and ate.
