Tears stung my eyes. I remembered the multiple fertility clinic visits, the forms, the way Martin had squeezed my hand when we agreed to sperm donor anonymity. We had promised never to ask, or know. And though we had told Nora, when she turned fifteen, we never imagined she or we would meet the man whose contribution we’d buried under love and silence.
Martin’s jaw worked soundlessly before he finally rasped, “And you—why did you meet her in secret? Why didn’t you just come to us?” His voice wavered between accusation and plea. Graham finally lifted his gaze. “Because she is an adult and asked me to honor her pace. And because I knew this wasn’t mine to announce.”