“No.”
I could swear the walls were closing in on us.
“You’re his daughter?”
She nodded.
“Biologically?”
“Yes.”
I could swear the walls were closing in on us.
Warren wasn’t certain the baby was his.
I looked back at the letter.
Warren had written that twenty-five years earlier, before we met, he had dated Mallory’s mother, Renee.
The relationship ended badly.
Renee told him she was pregnant.
Warren wasn’t certain the baby was his.
“He knew there might have been a child.”
Instead of finding out, he walked away.
I looked at Mallory.
“He knew about you?”
“He knew there might have been a child.”
“That’s not the same as not knowing.”
“No.”
I noticed she had Warren’s habit of rubbing one thumb across the rim whenever he was nervous.
There was no defensiveness in her voice.
