By Friday morning, the blue dress was hanging from the back of Sophie's bedroom door.
She had checked it twice before breakfast.
The second time, she called me in to make sure the sparkles hadn't fallen off.
"They're still there," I told her.
"Good. I don't want to look ordinary."
I looked at her through the mirror.
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone by looking beautiful."
"I know."
She smoothed the front of the dress with both hands.
"But I still want to."
I didn't argue.
Across the hall, Noah was sitting at his desk with a notebook open in front of him.
He had drawn three columns and written questions at the top of the page.
I stopped in the doorway.
"What are those?"
"Things I might want to know."
"About your father?"
He nodded.
"I don't want to forget anything when I see him."
I leaned against the doorframe.
"Do you want help deciding what to ask?"
"No. I want to make the list myself."
That sounded like Noah.
I left him to it.
The rest of the day passed in ordinary pieces.
I answered emails, checked my work schedule, and made sure the twins had everything they needed for school.
I tried not to look at my phone every few minutes.
I failed.
Lucas sent a message confirming that our arrangements remained in place.
He had the invitations.
He had the parentage documentation.
The people he had contacted knew when we intended to arrive.
Nothing had changed.
Still, I felt as if I were standing at the edge of something I couldn't quite see.
At lunch, I took the twins' school forms from the kitchen drawer and placed them back in their folder.
I didn't need to do that.
I was simply looking for something to occupy my hands.
The drawer also contained an old photograph of Noah and Sophie as babies.
I had taken it on a morning when they were both asleep in the same bassinet, their tiny hands resting near each other's faces.
They looked so small that I could hardly believe they had once fit into the crook of one arm.
I sat at the table and studied the picture.
There had been no audience for those years.
No cameras.
No one applauding me for getting through another difficult day.
There had only been the next feeding, the next appointment, the next bill.
I had never expected recognition.
But I had expected Ethan to acknowledge that his choices had consequences.
That was the part I could no longer accept.
In the afternoon, Lucas called.
"Have you had any second thoughts?"
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
"About going?"
"Yes."
"No."
He paused.
"That's a firm answer."
"I've had plenty of time to change my mind."
"That's true."
I heard papers moving on his end.
"Remember, Claire, you control what you say about your own experience. You don't have to answer every question someone asks you."
"I understand."
"And if the twins become uncomfortable, you can leave at any point."
"I know."
He was careful not to make promises about how the evening would unfold.
I appreciated that.
No lawyer could tell me what Ethan would do when he saw us.
No document could guarantee that he would respond with decency.
I had to accept that before I walked through the doors.
When the call ended, I put the phone on the counter and went to collect the children.
They came home talking about school.
Sophie had an argument with a classmate about whether a certain shade of blue counted as turquoise.
Noah had spent part of lunch explaining why the school should let students choose some of their own projects.
I listened and asked questions.
For an hour, the gala seemed far away.
Then Sophie asked whether she could wear her favorite shoes with the dress.
I told her she could, provided she could walk comfortably in them.
She disappeared into her bedroom to test them.
Noah sat beside me at the kitchen table.
"Mom?"
I turned toward him.
"Do you think he'll be angry?"
I took a moment before answering.
"He might be."
"At us?"
"I don't know how he'll react."
Noah looked down at his notebook.
"If he is, that doesn't mean we did something wrong."
I reached across the table and touched his hand.
"That's right."
He nodded.
Then he turned the page and wrote something else.
I didn't ask what it was.
That evening, after dinner, I laid out my own clothes.
The dress was simple and dark.
I checked the seams, brushed a little dust from the shoulder, and hung it beside the twins' outfits.
I wasn't trying to compete with Ethan's wealth.
I didn't need a dress that cost a fortune to walk into his gala.
I needed to be able to stand there without feeling that I had borrowed someone else's life.
Before bed, I called Lucas once more.
"We're still coming," I said.
"I'll be ready for you."
"Thank you."
After I hung up, I went into the children's rooms.
Noah had put his notebook in the top drawer of his desk.
Sophie had folded her dress carefully over the chair, with the shoes beneath it.
I pulled their blankets up and kissed them goodnight.
Then I stood in the hallway for a few seconds.
Ten years ago, I had left Ethan's home with almost nothing.
Now I was preparing to enter one of the most expensive events in Chicago with two children he had never met.
I wasn't sure what would happen when we arrived.
I only knew I wasn't going to pretend we didn't exist.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Saturday Arrived Quietly, and Every Small Thing in Our Home Seemed to Ask Whether I Was Ready to Face Him
The Night I Heard My Ex-Husband Tell the World He Had Never Been a Father
Part 5 of 15
