~ Evie ~
Dad and Claire are here for dinner with us, and it's going just like every other night we're together.
I clear my throat. “So, uh, Dad… we need to talk about something.”
He looks up. His fork is halfway to his mouth. “Yeah? What’s up?”
I feel my face get warm. I take a breath. “It is about me. And you. Dad.” The word Dad feels strange in my mouth now, like it does not fit the same way. “I got this letter. From Marcus. In prison. He sent proof - old hospital stuff from when I was born. Blood types. And a note from some nurse.”
Claire stops chewing. Her eyes get wide. “What kind of proof, honey?”
I pull the envelope out of my back pocket. It feels heavy even though it is just paper. I slide it across the table. My voice comes out shaky. “It says you are not my real dad. That M
