“I don’t think that’s how it works.” I wish he could fix everything the way he thinks he can.

“Don’t say no to donuts,” Ethan says, grinning.

I wish I could go back to what it felt like when Ethan knew everything about me.

— Chapter 57 —

July 1997

Asheville, NC

The baby is four and a half months for real, but three and a half to Ethan and Robert. It gets harder every day to remember that their timeline isn’t the real one. Late at night when Robert is working and I don’t have to play, Ethan is asleep, and I’m alone, I have to remind myself. When it’s just me and the baby, I put my hands on my stomach and remember what’s true.

Robert rubs my belly all the time. “You’re carrying precious cargo,” he says.

I feel like a steamer trunk.

On the fridge in his kitchen, he keeps a list of all the dad things he wants to do. Every time I’m over, he’s added something new. Fishing and riding bikes and seeing a Rolling Stones concert, camping in the Great Smoky Mountains, sailing on Lake Julian, Frisbee at the park, building a tree house, catching fireflies in a jar.

“I was raised by my stepdad,” Robert tells me one night while we’re lying on the couch after dinner. He runs his fingers through my hair, coaxing out the tangles. “I always felt like a guest. I can’t wait to have someone who’s mine.”

His fingers snag a knot in my hair, and he thinks that’s why my eyes start tearing. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

The baby kicks for Ethan, but not for Robert. He keeps trying.

Ethan calls the baby “our little overachiever” for kicking so early. Every time he says it, I feel like it really means April is a big fat liar. I feel like they should just know. They should have figured it out. Sometimes I even hate them for not knowing, but I love them too much to tell the truth.

Since Robert works late, I stay at Ethan’s mostly. They don’t want me to be alone, just in case. They’re overprotective.

Robert buys an old dresser for my room at Ethan’s. He strips it down in the garage and paints it white to match the daybed. “We’ll move it into the baby’s room next door, after,” he says, like it’s already decided where I’ll live. I like having two houses. I like living with Ethan. I don’t tell Robert that one house would make me feel caged. I don’t tell him that sometimes even two houses doesn’t feel like enough space.