I wanted to believe him, so I stopped asking.
I brought up adoption.
But as Nolan grew older, our differences over his future became harder to ignore.
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“He’s interested in engineering,” I said one evening.
“Then he should learn something practical.”
“College is practical.”
“Not everybody needs college, Emma. He’ll have to support himself someday.”
He’s already our son.
“Of course. But he doesn’t have to do everything alone.”
Richard noticed my notebook. “What’s all that?”
“College programs. Scholarships.”
“And the money you’re saving?”
“For Nolan’s education.”
He’ll have to support himself someday.
“You’re spoiling him.”
“I’m preparing him.”
Richard shook his head.
I told myself we simply had different parenting styles. After fighting so hard to have a family, I was terrified of losing it.
Six years later, I discovered how terribly wrong I’d been.
