chapter3

The coffee shop door swung open and a little girl burst in, running straight into Brittney's arms.

"Mommy!"

Brittney laughed and hugged her close, kissing her forehead.

The girl looked about four or five. When she smiled, her eyes curved into perfect crescents — the exact shape of Kevin's.

"Where's Daddy?" she asked, tilting her head back.

"Daddy's working a little late today," Brittney said, pinching her cheek. "We'll wait for him."

She held her son in one arm and drew the little girl close with the other, glancing up at me with a full, easy smile:

"My daughter — three and a half. My son, fourteen months. One of each. Pretty perfect, right?"

I stared at the little girl's face. Those eyes.

Kevin had said he didn't want children.

The first year we were married, I brought it up. He said he wanted it to be just the two of us for a while. The third year, I brought it up again. He said our careers were too unstable. The fifth year, I told him I was almost thirty-five. He said kids were too loud. He said he just didn't want them.

He'd said he didn't want children.

And yet here was a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter. A fourteen-month-old son.

"You two are lucky," I heard myself say. My voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "Two kids so quickly."

Brittney smiled. "Kevin wanted them — of course I gave them to him. He always said a home isn't a home without children."

I looked down at a spilled sugar packet on the table.

"He's pulling a rare late night today," Brittney said, the complaint wrapped in pure sweetness. "He's usually practically glued to the house. Must be something urgent. I have no idea what project's got him like this."

Working late.

He always said he was working late.

Six years of it. Projects too demanding, couldn't get away, impossible to make it to Houston.

The night my mother was in a car accident and moved into a rehab facility, I called him. He said he was at work. Said to handle it myself.

He'd been working late this whole time.

Building a life.

"You could wait at the house, actually," Brittney said, standing up. "It's literally three minutes on foot. Have a coffee, he'll be back before you know it."

I stood and followed her.

Outside, Brittney walked ahead with the stroller, the little girl holding her hand.

I walked beside them, my mind hollow, those eyes floating in and out of focus.

The little girl wore a pink backpack with a gold emblem on it.

I recognized the insignia — Gold Star Family.

I slowed for half a step.

"Your daughter's in that program?" I asked.

Brittney glanced back and smiled. "She's in a support-access school. Kevin qualifies as a high-tech professional's family member, so the kids get priority placement."

High-tech professional's family member.

I kept walking. My heartbeat was picking up.

"Which family member is in the program?"

"His sister," Brittney said, turning the stroller onto a quieter street. "Emily Carter. She joined some sealed research division at NASA about three years ago. Once you're in, you don't come out. From what Kevin says, it's extremely high-level work."

I stopped.

Brittney took two more steps before she noticed I wasn't beside her. She turned around. "Everything okay?"

Emily Carter was my name.

No wonder he'd spent years convincing me not to have children.

He was afraid my kids would take the school spots away from his.