Mark stared at the bills on the kitchen table. “With what money?”
I remembered a conversation with Mark.
“We’ll manage.”
“We’re eighteen, Rachel.”
“Nineteen for you.”
“That doesn’t make this better.”
I’d reached across the table and taken his hand. “We knew there were two babies.”
We’re going to need two of everything.
“I know.”
“And we’re keeping both.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Yeah.”
“Mark?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
At the time, I’d believed him.
That doesn’t make this better.
***
Back in the hospital, I looked at Susan. “He was scared.”
Susan nodded. “Very.”
“But he never mentioned adoption to me. Not once.” My throat tightened. “Then I woke up after the delivery, and he told me one of them had died.”
But now that I was thinking about that night again, another memory surfaced.
