Chapter 2 - THE SISTER I RAISED
I called Chloe six times.
She didn't answer.
On the seventh attempt, Julian walked into our bedroom.
He stopped when he saw my face.
“What's wrong?”
I held up the phone.
“Tell me about the twins.”
His expression changed so quickly that I almost missed it.
First surprise.
Then calculation.
Finally, something resembling resignation.
“Ellie—”
“Don't.”
He loosened his tie.
“Let me explain.”
I stared at him.
“Are you having an affair with my sister?”
He looked away.
And that was my answer.
I sat down because my legs had begun shaking.
“How long?”
“It's complicated.”
“How long, Julian?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Eight months.”
Eight months.
I thought about Christmas.
Chloe sitting beside our fireplace, wearing the cardigan I'd bought her.
Julian bringing her hot chocolate.
The two of them laughing at a private joke.
I had felt grateful that my husband treated my sister like family.
Now the memory made me nauseated.
“Where did it happen?”
“Eleanor, the details won't help.”
“Where?”
He swallowed.
“At the apartment.”
“What apartment?”
He looked toward the window.
“The one I rented for work.”
I stared at him.
For six months, Julian had claimed he needed a temporary studio near a major construction project in Bellevue.
He'd stayed there two or three nights a week.
I'd packed dinners for him.
I'd worried he was working too hard.
“Chloe stayed there?”
He nodded.
I laughed.
It came out like a cough.
“Of course she did.”
Julian approached.
“Ellie, listen to me. This wasn't planned.”
“Neither was our infertility.”
He flinched.
I stood.
“You knew how much I wanted a family. You knew how much I loved Chloe.”
His voice hardened.
“I wanted children too.”
I stared at him.
“So you decided to have them with my sister?”
He didn't answer.
Then he said the sentence that ended whatever remained between us.
“Maybe this is finally my chance to be a father.”
I felt something inside me close.
Not break.
Close.
Like a door shutting against a storm.
“Are you certain they're yours?”
Julian frowned.
“Chloe says they are.”
“Have you had a paternity test?”
“No.”
“Then you don't know.”
His face reddened.
“Are you accusing your own sister of lying?”
I looked at him.
“No, Julian. I'm asking whether you remember the doctor's office.”
He stepped back.
“That was seven years ago.”
“And you haven't repeated the testing.”
“Things can change.”
“Yes,” I said. “They can.”
He took a breath.
“I know this hurts you.”
I shook my head.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
He reached toward me.
I moved away.
“Don't touch me.”
For the first time that evening, he looked frightened.
“Ellie, please.”
I walked to the closet and took out a suitcase.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere you aren't.”
“Eleanor, we need to talk.”
“We've had eleven years to talk.”
I folded a sweater.
“You spent eight months lying instead.”
At two in the morning, I checked into a hotel in downtown Seattle.
I sat on the bed and stared at the city.
Then I called my best friend, Naomi Park.
She answered immediately.
“Ellie?”
“My husband is having an affair with Chloe.”
Silence.
Then Naomi said, “Where are you?”
I told her.
May you like
“I'm coming.”
I began crying before she finished the sentence.
