“Are you even concerned about him?”

Jonah looks offended by my question. “Of course I am.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m not in a good place.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Neither is my mother. She lost her husband and her sister.”

Jonah’s response is flat. “I lost my best friend, my fiancée, and my son’s mother.”

“And now your son lost you. That seems fair.”

Jonah sighs, leaning against the counter. He looks down at the floor, and I can tell my being here is making him feel guilty. Good. He deserves to feel guilty. And I’m not even done yet.

“Do you think you’re hurting more than my mother?”

“No,” he says instantly. Convincingly.

“Then why are you putting your responsibilities on her? It’s not like you’re grieving more than she is, and now you’ve dropped your kid off with her, like your grief is more important than what she’s going through.”

Jonah takes in what I’m saying. I can see it sinking in because he looks guilt ridden. He pushes off the counter and turns away from me, like my presence alone is making him feel remorse.

“Elijah rolled over last night,” I say.

Jonah spins around, his eyes darting back to mine. “Did he really?”

I shake my head. “No. But he will soon, and you’re going to miss it.”

Jonah’s jaw hardens. I can see the shift in him seconds before it happens. “What the hell am I doing?” he whispers. He rushes to the dining room table, swiping up a set of car keys. He begins to head for the garage door.

“Where are you going?”

Jonah pauses, then faces me. “To get my son.”

He opens the garage door, but before he leaves, I call after him. “I’ll stay and clean your house for fifty bucks!”

Jonah then walks back through the living room as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket. He takes out two twenties and a ten and hands the three bills to me. Then he does something unexpected. He leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead. When he pulls back, he’s staring at me with an intense expression. “Thank you, Clara.”

I smile and shake the three bills in my hand, but I know he isn’t thanking me for staying to clean his house. He’s thanking me for knocking some sense back into him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MORGAN

I’m in the laundry room, rewashing the few outfits I have of Elijah’s when I hear the front door open and close. Clara must be back from the store with diapers. I’m still crying. Big surprise. I wipe at my eyes before turning on the dryer and heading back into the living room.

When I round the corner, I pause.

Jonah is standing in my living room.

He’s holding Elijah. Cradling him against his chest, kissing him over and over on top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” I hear him whispering. “Daddy is so, so sorry.”

I don’t want to interrupt the moment. It’s heartwarming, which is odd, since I was so full of anger just minutes before. But I can see in Jonah’s expression that he realizes he can’t just walk away from Elijah. No matter who fathered him, Jonah has raised him. Jonah is the one Elijah knows and loves. I’m happy that Jonah didn’t make my worst fears come true.

I walk to my bedroom and give them a moment while I repack Elijah’s diaper bag. When I return to the living room, Jonah hasn’t moved. He’s still cradling him as if he can’t apologize enough to Elijah. As if Elijah even understands what happened.

Jonah glances up, and we make eye contact. As much relief as I feel right now from knowing his love for Elijah overpowers any DNA they do or don’t share, I’m still a little pissed that it took him almost four days to come to his senses.

“If you abandon him again, I’m filing for custody.”

Without wasting a second, Jonah crosses the room and wraps an arm around me, tucking my head under his chin. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His voice is desperate, as if I might not forgive him. “I’m so sorry.”

The thing is . . . I don’t even blame him.

If Chris and Jenny weren’t already dead, I’d kill them for doing this to Jonah. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past few days. Jenny had to know there was a chance Chris could be Jonah’s father. And if Jenny knew, Chris knew. I’ve asked myself why they would allow Jonah to think for one second that he fathered a child that wasn’t his. The only reason I can come up with isn’t good enough.

I believe they kept it a secret because they were afraid of the fallout the truth would bring. Clara would have never forgiven them. I think Jenny and Chris would have done anything in their power to keep the truth from Clara. Even if that meant pulling Jonah into the lie.

For Clara’s sake, I’m relieved they did such a good job of hiding it.

But on Jonah’s behalf—and Elijah’s—I’m livid.

Which is why I don’t say anything else to Jonah to make him feel guilty. He needed time to adjust to such traumatic news. He doesn’t need to feel guilty. He’s back and he’s remorseful, and that’s all that matters right now.

Jonah is still clinging to me, still apologizing, as if I need more of an apology than Elijah. I don’t. I understand completely. I’m just relieved to know that Elijah won’t have to grow up without a father. That was my biggest concern.

I pull away from Jonah and hand him Elijah’s diaper bag. “There’s a load of his onesies in the dryer. You can come get them later this week.”

“Thank you,” he says. He kisses Elijah on the forehead again and stares at him for a moment before going to leave. I follow them across the living room. When Jonah reaches the front door, he turns around and says it again, somehow with even more conviction. “Thank you.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay, Jonah. Really.”

When the door closes, I fall onto the couch with relief. I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted. From life. From death. From everything.

I wake up an hour later in the same position when Clara finally returns home.

Without diapers.

I rub sleep from my eyes, wondering where she’s been if she wasn’t out getting diapers like I asked her to. As if having an infant all week wasn’t exhausting enough, having a teenager who decided to start her rebellious period on the day of her father’s funeral takes the cake.

I follow her into the kitchen. She opens the refrigerator, and I’m behind her, trying to see if she smells like weed again. She doesn’t, but nowadays they all eat those gummies. It’s easier to hide.

Clara looks at me over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Did you just sniff me?”

“Where have you been? You were supposed to be out getting diapers.”

“Is Elijah still here?”

“No. Jonah came and got him.”

She sidesteps around me. “Then we don’t need diapers.” She pulls the diaper money out of her pocket and sets it on the counter. She heads for the kitchen door, but I’ve been way too lenient on her. She’s sixteen. I have a right to know where she’s been.