Page 57 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"I trusted you," I said. "I told you things I've never told anyone. I let you into my life, into my work, into my head. And the entire time, you were keeping this from me."
"I was trying to protect everyone."
"You were protecting yourself." The words came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn't stop them. "You were protectingyourself from having to deal with the consequences of your choices."
She flinched as if I'd struck her. "That's not fair."
"Fair?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to talk about fair? Is it fair that I've missed three years of their lives? Is it fair that they don't know who their father is? Is it fair that you've been struggling alone when I could have been helping?"
On the bed, one of the twins stirred and made a soft sound in her sleep. Ivy immediately moved toward her, checking to make sure she was still settled.
Watching her with the children, I could see the depth of her love for them. The way she moved around them spoke of countless nights spent caring for them, worrying about them, protecting them from a world that might judge them for being fatherless.
But it also reminded me of how completely she'd shut me out of that love.
"I need to go," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
"Duncan, please. Let me explain?—"
"Explain what? How you've been lying to me for months? How you let me fall in love with you while keeping my own children a secret?" I moved toward the door, my hands shaking with the effort to keep my voice low. "There's nothing left to explain."
She stepped in front of me, her face streaked with tears. "You promised me that you wouldn't hold my past choices against me."
The memory hit me hard. I had said that. I'd meant it at the time, before I knew the full scope of what she'd kept from me.
"I didn't know you'd kept my children from me," I said.
"I was scared. I was so young and scared and I didn't know how to fix it once so much time had passed." She was pleading now, her voice breaking. "I wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn't know how."
Looking at her, I could see the girl she'd been four years ago—young and frightened and overwhelmed by circumstances beyond her control. Part of me wanted to understand, wanted to forgive her for making an impossible choice in an impossible situation.
But the larger part of me was drowning in the reality of what I'd lost. Three years of bedtime stories. Three years of first steps and first words. Three years of being the father these children needed.
"I can't do this right now," I said, reaching for the door handle.
"Duncan, please don't leave like this."
I turned back to look at her one more time. She was standing in the middle of the cramped hotel room, surrounded by the evidence of the life she'd built without me. Her face was wet with tears, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were praying.
"You lied to me for three years," I said quietly. "Now I'm supposed to thank you for telling me?"
I watched her face crumple. She pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her crying.
I knew I should stay. I knew I should comfort her, should try to work through this together. But I also knew that if I stayed, I'd say things I couldn't take back. I'd lash out at her the way my father had lashed out at my mother when his anger overwhelmed his control.
I wouldn't be that man. I wouldn't let my hurt turn into cruelty.
But I also couldn't pretend this revelation hadn't changed everything.
Walking back to her, I sucked in a breath and held it. When I stood in front of her I held her face in my hands and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. "I'm so hurt, Ivy. And I'm furious. And we will talk, but if I don't walk away, I will explode."
Then I walked away from her, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway, leaving her standing there with our children sleeping peacefully behind her, unaware that their world had just shifted on its axis.
23
IVY
Monday morning arrived with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I stood outside the glass doors of Walsh Development, watching the stream of employees flow past me into the building. My stomach churned with a mixture of dread and caffeine from the hotel's bitter coffee. The kids were still at the hotel with Lauren—Sammy's fever had finally broken around dawn, but he remained listless and clingy. Elena and Chrissy had woken up cranky and confused, demanding to know when they could go home to Grandma and Grandpa.
