Rachel smiled awkwardly. “Probably from the grandparents.”
But for Ethan, something snapped. He swallowed his anger, forcing it down with a sip of beer.
He couldn’t pretend anymore.
On Tuesday night, Rachel sat folding baby clothes on the couch.
“Rachel,” he said from the doorway, his voice heavy. “We need to talk. I can’t keep this inside.”
She froze, immediately sensing something was wrong. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”
He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I had a vasectomy three years ago.”
The tiny outfit slipped from her hands.
“What…?” she whispered.
