The gray-eyed girl leaned forward, her tiny hand wrapped around the stroller bar.
“Are you my mommy’s friend?” she asked.
Rachel closed her eyes.
The sound of that small voice nearly undid me.
“I was,” I said carefully.
The little girl considered that. “I’m Lily.”
The boy lifted his hand. “I’m Noah.”
The other girl peered around the rabbit. “I’m Sophie, but I don’t like carrots.”
Despite everything, a broken little laugh escaped Rachel. It vanished almost immediately.
Noelle took one step back. “Triplets,” she whispered.
Rachel’s eyes moved to her. “I’m sorry.”
Those two words carried more weight than any explanation could have. Noelle heard it too. Her expression changed, not hardening, exactly, but closing around a wound.
“I’ll give you space,” she said to me. Her voice was steady in a way that made me feel worse. “But I need the truth tonight, Evan. Not tomorrow. Tonight.”
