tears.
“Don’t lie to me, Mom. Not this time.”
I asked where he’d found it.
“At Noah’s house.”
I unfolded it, expecting a misunderstanding.
I read the first lines, and my knees nearly went out from under me, and I dropped into the chair.
It was an adoption record.
Noah’s.
And the birth date on it was my son’s birth date.
The exact day. The exact hospital.
The day I had twins — and was told, hours later, that only one of them had lived.
Chapter 2: The Paper
I need
