I took screenshots of the call log and the DNA results before setting my phone down.
Greg would be home in twenty minutes. And I was finished acting like I didn’t already know the truth.
Three Months Earlier
“Tiffany, slow down!” I laughed, catching her backpack before it knocked over a pile of mail. “You’re like a tiny tornado.”
She pulled a crumpled test kit from the front pocket and waved it triumphantly.
“Mom! We’re studying genetics! We have to swab our families and mail it in — like real scientists!”
“All right, Dr. Tiffany. Shoes off, hands washed, then we’ll take a look.”
She dashed down the hall. I was still smiling when Greg walked in.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey.” He seemed distracted, kissed my cheek absentmindedly, and headed straight for the fridge.
Tiffany came running back and threw her arms around him.
“Hey, bug. What’s this?” he asked, nodding toward the kit.
