“All this time,” I said, “someone knew.”
Rachel’s voice was barely audible. “Maybe more than someone.”
The wedding invitations sat on the console by the door, elegant cream envelopes addressed in Noelle’s handwriting. Rachel looked at them, then away.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“Yes, you should.”
“No. Evan, your wedding is in days. These children don’t need chaos. They need answers, but they also need peace.”
“I can give them both.”
“You don’t know that.”
She was right. I did not know how to become a father in an afternoon. I did not know how to face Noelle, or my parents, or the possibility that my own family had helped steal another family from me. I only knew that the old version of my life had ended in the park.
I knelt beside the sofa where Sophie slept. Noah looked up from the magazine.
