The blanket slipped completely from the baby’s face.
I stared at him.
Then my knees nearly gave out.
There, just beneath his left ear, was a tiny crescent-shaped birthmark.
I knew that mark.
I had seen it on the ultrasound photographs we had kept after losing our baby.
For several seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
Eric woke with a start.
His eyes found mine, then the baby, and finally the expression on my face.
He went completely still.
“Emily…”
“Whose baby is that?”
My voice barely sounded like mine.
Eric slowly sat up.
“He’s yours.”
The words struck me harder than any accusation could have.
“What?”
“He’s ours.”
I stepped backward.
“Our baby died.”
Eric’s eyes filled with tears.
“I know what you were told.”
The room seemed to tilt.
He reached toward the nightstand and picked up a sealed envelope.
“I wanted to tell you months ago.
