Trevor’s wife looked from Elaine to Trevor. “What is going on?”
Elaine’s napkins slipped from her hand and scattered over the grass.
Trevor finally stepped closer, eyes wet, voice low enough that only the circle nearest them could hear. “How old are they?”
Simone opened the pocket of the stroller organizer and touched the folded envelope inside, the one with the clinic letter and the dates he had never asked about.
Then she looked at his pregnant wife, looked back at Trevor, and said…
“Twenty-two months.”
Trevor’s face went blank.
Not confused.
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