My throat tightened.
“Are they mine?”
Evelyn’s expression became guarded.
“That’s what you came here to ask?”
“It’s the most important question I’ve ever asked.”
“No, Adrian. The most important question would have been asked two years and six months ago.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t want to know.”
The truth of it left me defenseless.
Julian moved toward the living room. “I’ll take the children upstairs.”
“No,” Evelyn said. “They don’t need to be involved.”
“They’re not involved,” he replied gently. “They’re watching a stranger stand in their hallway.”
The word stranger burned.
He went upstairs, and within moments we heard small footsteps and his warm voice explaining that Mommy had a visitor.
Evelyn walked into the kitchen.
I followed, stopping near the doorway.
The room smelled of cinnamon and bread. A pot simmered on the stove. There were two small cups on the counter, one pink and one blue, and a calendar covered in appointments, school events, and drawings.
