“Her name is Claire.”
“She’s my mother,” Evan added.
I looked at my husband again.
“Is he… is Evan… your son?”
“She’s my mother,”
“What?” Daniel seemed genuinely horrified. “No.”
His answer should have relieved me.
Instead, it left an even worse question: why had he insisted that Evan leave the second he walked through our door?
“Then explain the picture.”
“Is he… is Evan… your son?”
“Claire and I were never together.”
Evan nodded. “My mom never said they were. That’s not why I came here.”
I looked at him.
“Then why did you bring this?”
He glanced at Daniel.
“Then why did you bring this?”
“My mom died last year.”
The anger in the room softened for half a second.
He swallowed.
“I found some old pictures when my stepdad and I were going through her things. This one had Daniel’s name written on the back.”
Maya stepped closer to him.
“This one had Daniel’s name written on the back.”
“He showed me the picture a few weeks ago,” she said. “I recognized Dad immediately.”
“Who were you to her?” Evan asked. “My stepdad didn’t know, and all it said in her letters was some stuff about how she could never have done ‘it’ without you. What was she talking about?”
Daniel sat down. I watched him rub both hands over his face.
I folded my arms.
“Who were you to her?”
“Start talking, Dan. What was your relationship with Claire?”
He looked at the table.
“We were friends. We met through Mark. They were dating.”
My skin prickled.
“Mark? The same Mark who borrowed your torque wrench?”
Daniel nodded.
“Start talking, Dan. What was your relationship with Claire?”
Maya stared at him.
“That doesn’t explain why you freaked out.”
Daniel pointed toward the chairs.
“Sit down. I’ll explain everything.”
After a moment’s hesitation, we all took a seat at the table.
Daniel started talking.
