“Lauren was there—”

“Lauren was there, and you and Lauren met with a serial killer and you determined that he’s our donor. You found this out just by asking?”

“Yes, and—”

“You tricked him? You didn’t tell him who you really were, or why you wanted to know? You assumed a false identity?” Marcus’s mouth dropped open. He looked at her with utter disbelief.

“Now we have the answer to the question, the truth—”

“How do you know he told you the truth? He could be lying. The man’s a criminal, a serial killer.” Marcus started shaking his head, in a state of shock.

“He wasn’t lying. He would have no reason to lie. He didn’t even want to tell me about it. I had to get it out of him.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This isn’t like you at all! You’ve never done anything like this.”

“I’ve never been in this situation before, and maybe we don’t need a big lawsuit now to figure out that he’s the donor, because he is. Maybe Gary can just call them and tell them that we already know it, and they’ll make a settlement with us, just in case the baby needs evaluation and help, like he said.”

“Are you trying to tell me that’s why you did it? That’s why you went down there? So we don’t have to file a lawsuit?”

“No, I went down there because I had to know, I couldn’t not know any longer, and I knew a way to find out. That’s why I did it.” Christine fumbled for words, trying to organize her thoughts. “I expected you to be upset, and I know this seems really strange, and I’m sorry I lied to you, but I met with him, twice—”

“Twice?” Marcus kept shaking his head.

“He’s nice, he’s smart. He’s easy to talk to, he’s charming—”

“Charming?” Marcus’s face reddened. “Honey, Ted Bundy was charming. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“He’s not like Ted Bundy, Zachary’s—”

“Zachary, now? You call him Zachary? Are you on a first-name basis? Does he call you Christine? Does he call you by your first name? Zachary and Christine?”

“Marcus. We talked, we had a conversation—”

“I don’t understand what you’re thinking. I don’t know how you expect me to hear this.” Marcus started edging away. He wasn’t angry; he was anguished.

“I know it’s a lot to process, but now we know who our donor is. Now we can put a face and a name to him, and I’m not even sure he’s guilty of murder, I think he might even be innocent and—”

“I don’t want to know who our donor is!” Marcus kept backing away, stricken.

“What do you mean? Of course you do.” Christine got off the chair, in confusion.

“No I don’t. I liked it anonymous. Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t. You wanted us to sue to find out his identity. It wasn’t going to be anonymous any longer—”

“That’s different, that’s Gary finding out, that’s lawyers finding out, that’s corporations battling in court, and on phones, that’s insurance companies.” Marcus shook his head, nonplussed. “That’s not you finding out, my wife, meeting him.”

“What’s the difference who finds out or how? Now, we know and we—”

“I don’t want you to meet him. I don’t want you to lie to me about it. I don’t want you to be the one who finds out the real father of the baby you’re carrying.”

Christine’s mouth went dry, hearing the jealousy in his voice. She had expected that he would be angry, even furious, but she hadn’t expected that he would be hurt and jealous. “Marcus, it’s not like that—”

“You’re carrying his child, Christine. You went to see the man whose child you’re carrying.”

Christine felt his words hit home, and she felt terrible. “Marcus, I’m sorry—”

“We spent so much time in therapy saying he’s just a biological donor, and that’s all I wanted him to be. That was the deal.” Marcus shook his head, edging out of the kitchen, his forehead knotted with pain. “Maybe Zachary wanted anonymity, but you know what? So did I. It worked for me, too.”

Christine kept going toward him, not wanting him to be so hurt, seeing how much pain he was in. “Marcus, you’re getting the wrong idea.”

“No, I’m not. It was never the deal that you would go running off to meet him, that you would lie to me about that.” Marcus’s eyes glistened suddenly, an agonized blue. “Whose wife are you? Whose woman? His or mine?”

“Marcus, of course, I’m your wife—”

“But you’re having his baby. Zachary. You don’t even care that he’s in jail for carving up nurses. You’re already on his side.”

“There’s no sides—”

“Yes there are sides! You’re on one, and I’m on the other. Correction, you and Zachary and the baby are on one, and I’m on the other.”

“No, that’s not true!” Christine cried out, but Marcus turned away, left the kitchen, and walked into the entrance hall.

“Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.”

Christine went after him. “Marcus, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it that way, that’s not the way I meant it.”

“That’s the way it is.” Marcus kept walking away from her, into the living room, flicking on the light. “I’m tired, I’ve been traveling all day. I had a shitstorm to deal with this weekend. I want to sleep downstairs, I need time to think alone.”

“Marcus, we can still talk about it—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to think about it, by myself.” Marcus held her off with a straight arm, so Christine stopped, motionless until Murphy came wandering in, his toenails tapping and his tail wagging slowly, confused because nobody ever went into the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Marcus motioned to the stairwell. “Please go upstairs. I’m sleeping downstairs. We’ll see Gary in the morning.”

“Okay,” Christine said, heartbroken.