"You're right."
His answer surprised me.
I had expected excuses.
Justifications.
Perhaps some ridiculous explanation about how Thomas had been lonely or confused.
Instead, Nathan looked genuinely ashamed of a mistake that wasn't his.
"My mother raised me alone until she married my stepfather," he continued. "I grew up believing he was my biological father."
"When did you find out?"
"When I was twenty-nine."
Seventeen years ago.
I tried to remember what Thomas had been doing seventeen years earlier.
We had purchased our lake house.
We had taken a cruise through Alaska.
We had celebrated our thirty-first wedding anniversary.
Thomas had given me a pearl necklace and written a note saying he hoped we would have another thirty years together.
I remembered kissing him across the restaurant table.
All while somewhere in the world, a twenty-nine-year-old man had just discovered Thomas was his father.
"What happened after you found out?"
