Page 57 of Single Mom's Daddies
Victor lifts his head slowly as she continues.
“There was a frat party on campus. Big one. Masks were encouraged. I saw three guys by the bar. Watching the crowd. They came to me…surrounded me…overwhelmed me…”
The words hit me like a brick. But I say nothing.
She goes on. “It was anonymous. Masked. We didn’t exchange names or numbers. But the tattoos—they stuck with me. Three crosses. All wrapped in ivy.”
Victor mutters something low and sharp under his breath. I remember. The costumes. The night. Nik’s bedroom in that infernal frat house. Her skin…
I stare at the photo again. Then at Saffron. She isn’t accusing us of anything. Her tone hasn’t changed. But I feel accused anyway. Not by her. By myself. Because I know what came after. I know what that night was. It was good. Too good.
It was the first time we tried it—being with someone together after Nadia.
I close my eyes. God help me. I remember it all.
We had just arrived on campus that night. Victor and I drove up because Nik had asked us to come visit. It was Halloween. Nadia had left us a few weeks earlier. No explanation. Just said she needed space. Said it wasn’t working. Disappeared. We were gutted, but we honored her wishes and left her alone. All of us.
So when Nik said there was a party on campus, we said yes. We thought, “Why the hell not?”
And the idea came up—half-joking, half-serious. Try something different. See if our dynamic worked with someone else. Three guys. One girl. No names. No strings.
Halloween made it easy. Everyone was in costume. Everyone wore masks. Anonymity was built into the air. It felt like permission.
I remember the way she looked when we found her. Sweet. Soft. Nervous, but brave. The kind of girl who didn’t do this often. The kind of girl who’d remember it forever.
We took her to Nikolai’s room. I remember the feel of her breath, the taste of her skin, the way she said yes to everything we asked of her. And I remember what I said, after.
“Happy senior year, little brother.” Like she was a gift. And she was.
But when it was over, and she left, I felt something cold settle in my gut. Not regret. Just…weight. And we never talked about it again. Not with anyone. Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Victor is like me in that way—usually quiet about his feelings. But Nikolai is a talker, and even he never brought it up again.
A few months after Halloween, Nadia walked into our house unannounced. Sat us down. Told us everything. She’d left because she thought she couldn’t have children. She didn’t want to hold us back. Didn’t want us to waste years loving someone who couldn’t give us what we’d always said we wanted.
So she left. And in the time apart, she got tested. Learned she was a good candidate for IVF.
She came back to us. We forgave her. We got Mila. Then Alex. And we never—never—spoke about that Halloween night again.Not because it was shameful. But because it felt like something we owed Nadia not to speak about. A buried thing. A one-time thing.
I grip the back of the chair with both hands. I don’t remember standing. “You’re sure.”
“Yes,” Saffron says.
I don’t want to ask it. But I have to, under these circumstances. “There was no one else?”
She gently shakes her head. “The guy who dumped me…we never had sex. Before him, it’d been months since I’d been with anyone else. The men from Halloween are the only viable fathers.”
The room is too quiet. Nikolai hasn’t moved. Victor’s knuckles are white at his sides. I’m still trying to breathe.
Saffron stands there, spine straight, jaw tight, eyes trained on us like she’s braced for impact. Like she’s waiting for one of us to shout, or accuse, or demand answers she hasn’t already given.
“You said you didn’t know it was us,” I say, voice low.
She nods. “I didn’t. Not until I saw the photo and did the math. I was seven months pregnant when that photo was taken, and it all clicked.”
“Not even when we kissed?”
She swallows. “I felt…something. Déjà vu. I thought I was going crazy. I thought it was just…I didn’t connect it. Maybe I didn’t want to…”
I nod, because I understand. Because the same thing happened to me. When she kissed me, I felt it too—like I’d been there before. Like she fit.
