The hardest truth

It had been a perfect day.

One of those rare Saturdays when everything just worked. Anthony napped without protest, Joe took the afternoon to himself, and Doc and I moved through the house like we were made for it. Cooking, laughing, kissing in the hallway while the stew simmered. I even let him chase me into the backyard, barefoot, just to feel the grass under my feet.

It felt like the kind of happiness you’re supposed to protect.

Which is probably why I knew it couldn’t last—not until I stopped hiding.

The weight of it had been growing. Not just the lie, but the trust it was slowly poisoning. Doc never asked. He never pushed. But I saw it in his eyes sometimes—quiet questions that he kept swallowing for my sake.

I couldn’t let him keep doing that.

So that night, after Anthony was asleep and the dishwasher hummed quietly in the kitchen, I curled up beside Doc on the couch, legs tucked under me, and said, “I need to tell you something. And it might change everything.”

He didn’t move right away, just glanced at me with those warm, steady eyes. “Okay.”

“I should’ve told you sooner. But I didn’t know how. And I was scared—scared you’d look at me differently, scared you’d leave.”

He sat up straighter, giving me his full attention now. No interruptions. Just that stillness of his that always made me feel seen.

I looked down at my hands. “Tio… he’s Anthony’s biological father.”

Silence. Not sharp. Not shocked. Just silence.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until after I left him. And when I did find out, I didn’t want him anywhere near the baby. I didn’t want Anthony growing up in that shadow. So I told Kay. Only Kay. And I kept it quiet, hoping I could build something better without the past hanging over us.”

Doc took a breath, slow and quiet. “Okay.”

I blinked. “That’s… that’s it?”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “No. It’s not nothing. But it’s also not going to send me running.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m hurt you didn’t tell me,” he said, honestly. “I won’t lie about that. I’ve been here, Andy. I’ve loved him like my own from day one. And I thought we didn’t have secrets between us anymore.”

“I know. And you’re right. I should’ve told you. But I was so scared you’d stop seeing him as yours.”

His voice cracked a little when he said, “But he is mine.”

I broke then. Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. “You really mean that?”

He nodded. “I was there when he took his first steps. I’m the one he runs to when he scrapes his knee. He calls me ‘Dada,’ Andy. That didn’t happen by accident.”

I covered my mouth with one hand and let the sob out. Ugly, unfiltered grief and guilt mixed with something softer—relief.

Doc reached out, pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for telling me. I know how hard that was.”

“I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured into my hair. “But this—this is something we’ll have to walk through together. No more protecting me from the truth. I want it all, even when it hurts.”

I nodded against his chest.

Because for the first time in a long time… I believed him.