Last year, my husband and I gave birth to a beautiful little boy who we named Rory. My husband, Adam, dotes on him. Even before Rory was born Adam handmade his crib and painted his nursery with lazy tumbling cows and clouds. Rory so far looks like me, with his dad’s eyes.
The only problem is I’m not sure his dad is Adam.
Adam’s and my third wedding anniversary happened to coincide with his brother Dan’s 30th birthday. Dan and I get along really well as we have a similar sense of humour and we’re similar in age (I’m 27) and so we travelled to Dan’s hometown to have a joint celebration.
To this day, I’m still unsure who’s Rory’s dad is, and I’m only glad Dan and Adam look alike.
On the night of his party, everyone drank a lot, ate a lot, and had an excellent time. When Adam got tired and a bit too drunk, I helped him into bed and left him be.
When the party died down at around 3am, it was just Dan and me. Dan started talking to me about how lonely he was, and how he wanted a relationship with someone, the same sort I had with Adam.
I did the usual spiel, telling Dan how he was a great guy, and good looking with a great job and how any girl would think he was a catch. I then made a joke about how I “picked the wrong brother”. Dan looked at me and told me he had always thought that.
He leant into to kiss me, and I realised this was bad, but let him keep leaning in. When Dan’s lips touched mine, I had just enough time to compare how different he was to Adam before my arms were around his neck, he laid me down against the deck lounge, and with his weight on top of me, all thoughts of Adam vanished.
I then made a joke about how I “picked the wrong brother”.
We stopped kissing just long enough for Dan to drag me into the pool room, which was a sort of guest room (and empty at the time). Shutting and locking the door, he pulled me down onto the bed and kissed me until I tore at his back for more.
When it was over we both felt hideously guilty with what we had just done. Adam’s name lay like a shameful blanket over us, and I began to cry quietly. Dan rolled over, gathered me in his arms and hushed me. When I stopped crying, I got re-dressed and silently slipped from the pool house.
When I got into bed, Adam rolled over and slipped into a curl behind me, murmuring “I love you” into my neck. The next morning I told Adam I had heaps to do, and we left Dan’s house.
I pushed the incident into the back of my mind, vowing not to tell Adam as it would only hurt him. We continued our lives together and were still blissfully happy. And then I found out I was pregnant.
Sick with dread, I waited out my nine months. I hadn’t told Adam about what had happened, and Dan and I made a deal to keep our sordid secret. When we told Adam’s family I was pregnant, they were all ecstatic.
Dan pulled me aside later, asking me what I was planning on doing. I lied to him and told him that there was nothing to do as I was still taking the contraceptive pill at the time of his party.
When Rory was born, Dan came to the hospital to see us. Adam was about to go home and get me some more clothes, so he left me “in Dan’s capable hands”. Dan looked down at me and the baby and his eyes welled with tears. He broke down and told me that he loved me, and he wished more than anything the baby was his. I told him that it wasn’t and he gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek, kissed the baby’s head, and slipped out to door.
To this day, I’m still unsure who’s Rory’s dad is, and I’m only glad Dan and Adam look alike.
