Chapter 8 - MilesFor three days, Marcus slept in the guest room.

He did not leave the house.

He refused to turn marital betrayal into parental absence.

Every night he took the midnight feeding.

Taylor pumped milk and stored bottles in the refrigerator. Marcus warmed them, carried the baby downstairs and let Taylor sleep.

During those hours, Marcus called him son.

Never Andre.

On the fourth night, Taylor found him in the nursery.

Marcus sat in the rocking chair with the baby sleeping on his chest.

The wooden plaque still read ANDRE REED.

Taylor had taken down the photograph.

Marcus noticed.

"Where'd you put it?"

"The box."

He nodded.

Taylor stood near the doorway.

"I called the county clerk."

Marcus looked up.

"About the name?"

"Yes."

"What did they say?"

"We'll need to petition. Since we're both parents and agree, it should be straightforward, but it won't happen tomorrow."

Marcus nodded.

He had expected that.

"I shouldn't have said tomorrow."

"You were angry."

"I was devastated."

"I know."

Marcus looked at the newborn.

"Have you thought about a name?"

Taylor sat on the edge of the ottoman.

"You said Miles."

"I used to like Miles."

"You still do."

Marcus glanced at her.

"How do you know?"

"Because every time I rejected it during pregnancy, you came back with another argument."

For the first time in days, he almost smiled.

Taylor continued.

"You said Miles Reed sounded like somebody who'd either be a trumpet player or own a law firm."

Marcus's mouth moved.

"I said architect."

"You definitely said law firm."

"Maybe."

The small shared memory felt dangerous.

Comfort was not forgiveness.

Taylor stared at their son.

"Why did you like it?"

Marcus shrugged.

"When we first met, we used to drive everywhere."

Taylor smiled faintly.

Their first months together had happened during a period when indoor dates still made them nervous. They drove to restaurants and ate takeout in parking lots. They drove north into the mountains. They drove without destinations.

"You once said you'd put a thousand miles on your car just listening to me talk," Taylor whispered.

Marcus looked at her.

"I was flirting."

"It worked."

Silence followed.

The marriage existed inside it.

Bruised.

Not dead.

Marcus gently adjusted the blanket.

"I don't want to name him Miles because it was my choice and Andre was yours."

"Okay."

"I want us to choose together."

Taylor nodded.

"Then we can make a list."

"Eventually."

He looked at the plaque.

"Take that down."

Taylor's face tightened.

But she stood immediately.

She lifted the plaque from its hook.

Behind it remained two small holes in the wall.

Marcus stared at them.

The absence was almost as noticeable as the name had been.

Taylor held the plaque against her body.

"What should I do with it?"

"Not throw it away."

She looked surprised.

Marcus continued.

"Someday our son may ask why his birth certificate changed."

Taylor swallowed.

"We tell him?"

"Age appropriately. Eventually, yes."

"About Andre?"

"About the mistake."

Her eyes filled.

Marcus didn't rescue her from the word.

"You made a decision for emotional reasons that wasn't fair to him or me. Hiding it would repeat the same pattern."

Taylor nodded.

"I agree."

She carried the plaque toward the closet.

Marcus stopped her.

"Not in here."

Taylor froze.

He glanced at the lockbox.

"I don't want our son's old name becoming part of Andre's shrine."

Taylor stared at him.

Marcus said, "Put it in a separate box. His records. Birth documents. Hospital bracelet."

A distinction.

Andre Bell's history was Taylor's.

Their son's history belonged to their son.

Taylor nodded slowly.

"Okay."

She left with the plaque.

Marcus looked at the blank wall.

Baby Reed stirred.

"Hey," Marcus whispered.

The baby's eyes fluttered.

Marcus smiled despite himself.

"We'll figure out what to call you."

Taylor returned.

Her phone rang.

She looked at the screen.

Marcus recognized the expression.

"Evelyn?"

Taylor nodded.

"Answer."

"Here?"

"Why not?"

Taylor accepted the call.

"Evelyn."

Marcus heard only Taylor's side.

"No."

A pause.

"Because I wasn't ready."

Another pause.

Taylor looked at Marcus.

"Yes, he knows about the box."

Her face tightened.

"No, I haven't opened the letter."

Marcus watched.

Then Taylor whispered:

"I can't."

She listened.

Her eyes suddenly widened.

"What?"

Marcus sat straighter.

Taylor's hand trembled.

"When?"

She went pale.

Marcus stood, still holding the baby securely.

"What happened?"

Taylor did not answer him.

She listened to Evelyn, tears forming.

Then she ended the call.

"Taylor?"

She looked at Marcus.

"Evelyn is selling her house."

"So?"

"Andre's childhood home."

Marcus waited.

Taylor wiped her face.

"She's moving to North Carolina with her sister."

"Okay."

"She found more of his things."

Marcus felt the old dread return.

"What things?"

Taylor swallowed.

"Receipts. Notes. A copy of our apartment application."

"Your and Andre's?"

"Yes."

Marcus nodded slowly.

"And?"

Taylor looked as though something she had believed for years was starting to crack.

"There's also an email Andre printed."

"What email?"

"One he wrote to his cousin three days before he died."

Marcus's voice became cautious.

"About what?"

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Taylor stared at the empty place where their son's name had hung.

"About postponing our wedding."