Gramercy Park. Shiv opens a letter. It's the results of Tool Belt's paternity test. Her hospital pseudonym, by the way, was Rebecca Sheldrake. She folds it shut when Henry comes in the room and asks what she's got. Rising, Shiv turns to him. "You had a paternity test done?" Henry says since she was sleeping with Tyler, he needed to know if the twins are his. He wants to trust her as they start their new life together and asks her what the letter says. Shiv: "What I knew it would always say. The girls are yours." Henry laughs a little too easily and kisses Siobhan. "Thank you. You just made a hard decision very easy for me." He's got to know she's lying, right? Not even Tool Belt himself could be so toolish as to order a secret paternity test, and then trust the answer of the woman he knows he cannot trust to be honest about the children's paternity. Right? Come on, Henry. I'm rooting for you, despite myself. When he leaves the room, we get a good gander at the letter. Henry is not the biological father of either child.
Martin/Charles, night. As Andrew leaves work, he tells Tim he'll be reachable by cell and email and all that other stuff you say before you go on vacation. Tim tells Andrew to have a safe trip. Andrew thanks him and says how lucky he is to get to marry the woman of his dreams -- twice. That's either too much for Tim to take, or he was waiting 'til the exact moment when he could most devastate our Welsh Rarebit. Either way, and as I said in the recaplet, in a move that would make Anyanka proud, Tim tells Andrew that Shiv and Henry had at least a yearlong affair. He does it off-screen, but before the scene is through, it's quite clear that's what going down.
Park Ave. The party is in full swing when...
Oz: We should figure out what kinda deal this is. I mean, is it a gathering, a shindig or a hootenanny?
Cordelia: What's the difference?
Oz: Well, a gathering is brie, mellow song stylings. Shindig -- dip, less mellow song stylings, perhaps a large amount of malt beverage. And hootenanny? Well, it's chock full of hoot, just a little bit of nanny.
Xander: Well, I hate brie.
Recapper: And none of you lovely people are on the guest list, so skeedaddle. Also, since this is a grown up party, replace "malt beverage" with "cocktails" and I think we're halfway to shindig, which matters little, because it a moment, it's going to devolve into a scandal.