Now she stood ten yards away with three children in a stroller, and one of them had my eyes.
Rachel finally turned.
For a moment we were the only two people in the park. Spring light moved through the trees. A taxi horn blared somewhere beyond the square. The triplets watched us with open curiosity, their small faces bright and serious.
“You dropped this,” I said.
Rachel looked at the envelope in my hand. Her lips parted, then closed again. She seemed to grow smaller somehow, as if the sight of that paper had taken away all the strength she had used to keep walking.
“Please,” she said softly. “Not here.”
Noelle’s hand tightened around her purse strap. “Evan?”
I looked at her then, really looked. My fiancée’s face had gone pale with worry, and there was no anger in it yet, only the first stunned edge of fear.
