He waited until Claudia's breathing evened out in sleep before he finally allowed himself to move, inching closer to her.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his eyes glistening with hurt as tears began to trace down his face.
He wrapped his arms around her, over the blanket, afraid to hold her too tightly. Curled up beside her, he let out a choked, muffled whisper. "Claudia, I'm so sorry."
The next morning, a frantic ringing of the doorbell woke Claudia. Her eyes fluttered open to see York curled at the foot of the bed, asleep, his arms wrapped around her legs over the comforter. She frowned in annoyance and kicked him. York woke with a jolt.
Hearing the commotion outside, he quickly got off the bed. "I'll see who it is."
When he got to the living room, Wilma had already opened the door. York's eyes fell as he saw Wendy and Darleen enter. They walked right past him and went straight to the master bedroom.
Listening to the sounds of weeping coming from the room, York felt his own eyes burn. He turned and retreated to the study.
About ten minutes later, Wendy emerged from the bedroom. "Where is that bastard?" she asked Wilma.
Wilma pointed toward the study, and Wendy marched over, her heels clicking against the floor. The moment the study door closed, she raised her hand and slapped her son across the face. Twice.
York stood there and took it, not flinching.
Wendy pointed a trembling finger at his nose. "For another man's child, you forced your own wife to get rid of your own son. Are you satisfied now?"


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