“Marcus, I agreed when you didn’t want to tell them anything, only because it’s your family, but lying to them is something else. You told them an outright lie, and that’s just wrong.”

“This, from the woman who lied to me about where she was the entire weekend?” Marcus slid his phone in his pocket, where it glowed. “That’s not the reason you’re mad. The real reason is that you blame me because we couldn’t have our own child. No matter what you say, you blame me because we couldn’t get pregnant.”

“I don’t blame you for that.”

“Yes you do. You know it, and I know it. And so do I. I blame myself, too.” Marcus raised his voice. “Do you have any idea what that’s like for me to sit there and listen to my father, who got his second wife pregnant by accident, when I couldn’t even get you pregnant once? Do you know what that feels like, as a man? As a husband?”

“I know, but this isn’t about you.”

“Of course it is. We wouldn’t be in this mess with Jeffcoat if I had been able to get you pregnant. You wouldn’t have a baby in you right now that has half the DNA of a serial killer. We’re not having a Nilsson baby, that’s the reason you’re pissed.”

“No, that’s the reason you’re pissed. You’re the one who has a problem with that, not me.”

“Oh, right. You’re fine with it because it’s Zachary’s baby. Your new boyfriend.”

“How dare you!” Christine’s blood boiled, and she felt suddenly exasperated with Marcus, with his jealousy, with his insecurities, and with him. “Do you know what bothers me? What bothers me is that tonight at dinner, I was sitting across from your father and Stephanie, and he’s completely supportive of her. He’s as excited about their pregnancy as she is, and they didn’t even plan it. She’s having the pregnancy that I wanted.”

“That’s exactly what I just said! You wanted a nice, normal pregnancy. You’re angry because you didn’t get one. You feel cheated because we had to use a donor.”

“No, that’s not true.” Christine finally understood her own feelings, and they were coming to a head. “I’m angry because you’re not supportive of this pregnancy.”

“I’ve been supportive. I drive you to your car. I get whatever food you want. I bring you water. I hold your hair when you throw up—”

“I’m talking about emotionally supportive. You didn’t buy in from the start, and now that you found out about Zachary—yes, I call him by his first name—now, you can’t get past it. You wanted me to have an abortion.” Christine couldn’t stop now that she’d said it aloud. “How is that supportive?”

“I don’t want that anymore—”

“Still, that’s the barest minimum. I’m talking about your being in it with me and sharing the joy with me, but also the hard parts. So we’re having a hard part. We got dealt a bad hand, but I’m the only one trying to solve it—”

“How, by running off to see Zachary? By lending him money? By making sure he has a lawyer?”

“Yes. That’s all part of it. I was just going to the source, like Gary said, and I feel connected to him. I want to help him.” Christine heard herself admit it aloud and understood something more, almost like an epiphany. “But the answer isn’t for me to ditch Zachary. The answer is for you to be part of this with me. He’s our donor, and we have to figure out what we’re going to do about that—”

“We’re going to sue the bastards!”

“That’s not all, not nearly. It’s all about taking care of this baby, because it’s on its way.” Christine understood everything with a new clarity. “Marcus, if we found out this child had cystic fibrosis, we’d be in it together. We’d be buying equipment. Medication, nebulizers. We’d be seeing the best doctors we could afford. We’d figure that out before the baby came. Why treat a physical illness but not a mental illness? This is no different.”

“Of course it is!”

“No it isn’t; and anyway, it doesn’t matter. The baby’s coming, and I’m going to be its mother. You’ve evidently decided you’re not going to be its father.”

“You think Zachary is the father. You went to see him, why?”

“To find out if he was the biological father, our donor.” Christine knew that Marcus was half-right, but she wasn’t about to admit it because she was right about the whole thing. “I wish you’d gone with me. I wish you were handling this whole thing differently. I wanted to get to know him, to learn things about him, about his family medical history, who had mental illness, who didn’t—”

“We already have more information about him than most people have before they get married. We have three generations of medical history on him.”

“That’s not the point, it’s not the same thing.” Christine thought fast. “You can have a résumé, but it’s not the same thing as meeting them. You could meet somebody online, but that’s not the same as a real date.”

“Excuse me if I don’t want to date Zachary. Excuse me if this whole thing is completely galling and mortifying and humiliating, and all you do is think about yourself!”

“No, you’re exactly wrong.” Christine felt resentment and bitterness welling up from deep within. “All I do is think about you. Since the day of your diagnosis, all I have done is worry about your feelings, your emotions, how embarrassed you were, that you felt ashamed and humiliated. I lied to my friends at school, and I didn’t even tell Lauren until I couldn’t keep a secret anymore. Everyone around you is protecting your feelings and your ego just because you have a medical condition you can’t own up to. Because you never accepted that it’s biology, not manhood. I’m sick of worrying about you. I’m officially done worrying about you. I’m tired of saving your face for you. Grow the hell up!” Christine stood her ground. “And you know what else I realized? That being a father is a decision. It doesn’t have to do with DNA or anything else. Zachary is the biological father of this child, and right now, what I’m saying is that this child doesn’t have a father—”