"Someone needs to explain what's going on," Naomi said, sitting rigid on the edge of the couch, Desmond beside her, his hand still holding hers despite the tension filling the room. "Right now. All of it."
⸻
I looked at Roland. He looked back at me, something like resignation settling across his face.
⸻
"Eighteen years ago," I said slowly, "when Naomi was seven, I found out your father was having an affair. With Paulette."
⸻
Naomi's face went pale. "What does that have to do with anything now?"
⸻
"I need you to let me finish," I said. "The affair had already been going on for almost a year by the time I found out. Paulette was pregnant when I found out, Naomi. About four months along."
⸻
The room went completely silent.
⸻
Desmond's face shifted rapidly, working through arithmetic I could see him running in real time. "I'm eighteen," he said slowly. "I turned eighteen in March."
⸻
"Naomi is twenty-six," I said quietly. "She turned eight the same year Paulette was pregnant with you."
⸻
"That's not—" Naomi started, her voice breaking. "That doesn't mean—"
⸻
"Roland is your father," I said, as gently as I could manage given the circumstances. "And Roland is Desmond's father too."
⸻
Naomi's hand slipped out of Desmond's grip entirely, both of them pulling apart on the couch like the distance itself might somehow undo what I'd just said.
⸻
"No," Naomi said. "No, that's not possible. Dad would have told me if I had a brother."
⸻
"I should have," Roland said, his voice barely audible. "I've spent eighteen years telling myself there was never a right time. You two grew up in completely different households, different schools, different cities most of that time. The chances of you ever actually meeting felt small enough that I let myself believe I could keep avoiding the conversation indefinitely."
⸻
"You knew," Naomi said, turning to him fully now, tears already streaming down her face. "This entire time, every single time I mentioned Desmond, every conversation about the wedding, you knew exactly who he was, and you said absolutely nothing."
⸻
"I didn't know you two had actually met until three months ago," Roland said. "When Desmond told me your name. I panicked, Naomi. I didn't know how to walk that conversation back once it was already this far along."
⸻
Desmond stood up abruptly, putting distance between himself and the couch entirely. "You let me get engaged," he said, staring at his father, "to my own sister, and you said nothing for three months."
⸻
"I know," Roland said. "I know exactly how badly I handled this."
⸻
