“It doesn’t mean it’s true,” I started. “It could’ve been some other woman completely who’d been your mother. I’m sure mine wasn’t the only one who...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, so I swallowed hard.
“You’re right. It might just be a coincidence. We might not have the same mother. But I found a way to get the truth, once and for all.”
I shook my head. “What’re you talking about?” My gaze landed on the envelope in his hand. “What is that?”
But I pretty much already knew.
He tapped it against his palm slowly. “It’s DNA test results, matching a piece of my hair to a piece I stole from you.”
My legs turned to Jell-O. “Oh, shit,” I mumbled, blindly finding my way to his couch and plopping down. “So it was a match? We’re really...?”
I glanced up at him, and his brown eyes held so much compassion and understanding that I almost lost it.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t opened it yet. I thought the two of us should open it together.”
“Right now?” I wiped my hands over my face, still afraid of the answer. Not sure what it’d mean for us, no matter what the results were.
“When else?” He watched me as he opened one end. I almost blurted out for him to wait. I wasn’t ready. But he’d already pulled the papers free, and was scanning the front page.
And it was too late to stall anything.
