He laughs like you.
At 7:14 p.m., Kenneth arrived with two coffees and the expression of a man who had more bad news but was trying to deliver it in manageable portions.
“You shouldn’t have caffeine this late,” I said.
“You shouldn’t be reading legal filings alone in your office,” he replied.
I accepted the coffee.
He sat across from me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Rain ticked against the window.
Finally, I said, “How long have you suspected?”
Kenneth exhaled. “The financial issue? Months. The embryo release? Only recently. The connection to the child became plausible this morning.”
“Plausible.”
“I won’t use stronger language until testing confirms it.”
“Attorney language.”
“Protective language.”
I leaned back, exhausted. “What happens if it’s true?”
He folded his hands. “Then we deal with a difficult legal and emotional situation very carefully.”
“That sounds like something you say when the actual answer is terrible.”
