Now Patricia stopped next to my chair and looked me over from head to toe.
“Well,” she said, loud enough for the receptionist to hear, “isn’t this interesting?”
I closed the folder resting in my lap. “Hello, Patricia.”
Her smile widened. “I heard you were still alone.”
I did not answer.
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Leaving you was the best choice my son ever made. Now he’s raising a beautiful daughter with Megan. A real family. Something you could never give him.”
My throat tightened, but I kept my expression still.
Ryan and I had spent years trying to have a child. We endured injections, failed transfers, debt, grief, and two frozen embryos kept at that clinic. After our last miscarriage, Ryan started pulling away. Megan became supportive. Then supportive turned into late-night phone calls. Then late-night phone calls became a divorce.
