“This weekend,” he said, lowering his voice, “is important to my family.”
There it was.
My family.
Rebecca glanced toward Noah and Nathan but clearly assumed they were simply students standing nearby.
I looked at Evan.
He was handsome in a quiet way, with dark hair and an uncertain expression.
Sixteen or seventeen, I guessed.
Michael put a hand on his shoulder.
“This is our son's final state championship before college.”
“Our son,” Rebecca repeated gently.
The words were unnecessary.
She wanted me to hear them.
I did.
Thirteen years earlier, those two words might have destroyed me.
Now they merely clarified things.
“I’m happy for him.”
Rebecca’s smile became thinner.
“This is a private event.”
I looked up at the enormous banner behind her.
CONNECTICUT STATE ACADEMIC EXCELLENCE CHAMPIONSHIP.
“It’s a state competition,” I said.
“It’s literally in the name.”
Nathan coughed behind me.
It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“Laura.”
He used that warning tone.
The same quiet voice he used during our marriage whenever he wanted to remind me not to embarrass him.
“Whatever point you’re trying to make by coming here—”
“I’m not making a point.”
“How did you even know we would be here?”
That question told me more than he realized.
He genuinely believed my life still revolved around him.
That thirteen years later I might research his schedule, discover which events he attended, then appear dramatically to upset his perfect new existence.
“I didn't.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then why are you here?”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Boys?”
Noah and Nathan stepped forward.
They were identical twins, but only to strangers.
I could tell them apart from a football field away.
Noah stood slightly straighter, always alert, always measuring the room before entering it.
Nathan had his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, expression unreadable.
They were both nearly six feet tall.
Dark brown hair.
Gray-green eyes.
Michael’s chin.
My father’s height.
They stopped beside me.
Something flickered in Michael’s expression.
Not recognition.
More like discomfort.
Some primitive part of him had noticed the resemblance before his conscious mind understood it.
“I’m here for my children,” I said.
Michael actually laughed.
“Your children?”
His eyes moved across them briefly.
Then returned to me.
“This weekend matters to Evan.”
“It matters to them too.”
Rebecca gave a small sigh.
“Michael, we should go.
Evan needs to prepare.”
But Michael didn’t move.
He stared at me.
“How dare you come here today?”
Several people nearby turned.
A volunteer at the registration table stopped sorting badges.
My face grew warm.
For thirteen years, I had imagined Michael being ashamed when he saw us again.
Instead,
he was angry that we existed within eyesight of his new family.
Before I could answer, Noah stepped slightly closer to me.
That tiny movement was all it took.
I stopped caring what Michael thought.
“Registration closes in ten minutes,” I said.
“Good luck, Evan.”
Then I turned.
