Olivia
Nathan and I spent the rest of the night in the hospital, neither of us sleeping for very long stretches of time between the humming of the lights and the beeping of the machines.
It was early in the morning when Angela, with her jacket on and her purse slung over her shoulder, slipped back into my room.
“Your shift is over?” I asked.
Angela nodded. Then, after a pensive silence that seemed to stretch on forever, finally let out a sharp exhale. “I decided to do it,” she said, her voice wavering just slightly. “I forged the paternity test for you.”
Both Nathan’s and my eyes widened as Angela walked over to Nathan and slipped something into his hands — a small, nondescript envelope, our ticket to a lie that had to be told.
I watched as he held it carefully, as if it was the mos
