“Boys,” she said without taking her eyes off me, “go wait beside the hostess.”
“But Mom—”
“Now, Leo.”
The bold one looked at me again.
Then he led his brothers down the hall.
I watched them disappear.
Elena’s expression hardened the moment they were gone.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m in a restaurant bathroom, Elena. I think chance gets some credit.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Pretend this is funny.”
Nothing about it was funny.
My chest felt as though somebody had driven a fist through it.
I lowered my voice.
“Are they mine?”
She looked away.
That was enough.
“Elena.”
“Not here.”
“Are they mine?”
People passed at the far end of the corridor. Glasses clinked in the dining room. Somewhere nearby, a woman laughed.
The normality of it made the moment feel unreal.
Elena finally looked at me.
There were tears in her eyes.
“Biologically?” she whispered. “Yes.”
The world went silent.
I had prepared myself for denial.
For uncertainty.
For some explanation involving a husband who happened to resemble me.
I had not prepared myself for yes.
I leaned against the wall.
“All four?”
A broken laugh escaped her.
“They’re identical, Dominic.”
I stared toward the lobby.
“My sons.”
Her face changed.
“Don’t call them that.”
My head snapped back toward her.
“They’re mine.”
“They are children you have never met.”
“Because you never told me they existed.”
She stared at me as though I had slapped her.
Then she reached into her handbag.
For half a second, some old instinct in me tightened.
Elena noticed.
Her expression became disgusted.
“Still living like that?”
“Sometimes people reach into bags for bad reasons.”
“I was reaching for my phone.”
She pulled it out.
A few taps.
Then she shoved the screen toward me.
It showed an old message thread.
My name sat at the top.
DOMINIC.
The messages were dated six years earlier.
Elena’s first message read:
I need to tell you something. I’m pregnant.
My throat tightened.
Below it was a reply.
From my number.
Get rid of it.
I stared.
Another message from Elena.
What?
Then another reply.
You knew what this was. There was never going to be a family.
My stomach turned.
“That wasn’t me.”
Elena’s eyes flashed.
“Keep reading.”
I did.
The next message was worse.
If you make this embarrassing for my family, you’ll regret it.
Then:
Leave Boston.
And finally:
If you ever try contacting me again, I’ll make sure you and the baby disappear somewhere nobody finds you.
My blood became cold.
Elena took the phone back.
“You threatened my unborn children.”
“No.”
“I spent months looking over my shoulder.”
“I never sent those.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
