I settle in next to Auden, handing him the glasses of wine we set on the bedside table forever ago and promptly forgot about.
“This is nice,” Auden murmurs, glancing at me before taking a sip of his wine. “I used to do this with my mom. It’s…nice to do this again with them.”
Warmth spreads through me at that idea – I love that this little activity lets him relive such a pleasant memory. And again, I wish quite desperately that I could tell him the truth…
But. I don’t know. Even after my failure, a big part of me realized that opening that secret to Auden would be very complicated. How would I even convince him that my words were true – that he is their father – if he has absolutely no memory of that night?
Would he just…write me off as some kind of madwoman? Or my attempt to convince h
