Читать книгу Pictures Of Us - Amy Garvey - Страница 2

“And according to his mother, he wants to meet me.”

A son. The words didn’t make any sense at first. We had a daughter, Emma. Where had a son come from?

And then I did the math, feebly, my mind tripping back over the years, and figured it out.

“Tess?” Michael said.

I took Michael’s hand, holding it hard even though I couldn’t face him. My gaze was drawn to the line of framed photographs on my dresser—Michael and me, Michael and Emma, Emma alone. Each picture offered its own truth, a testament to love and laughter and family. Even if there were dozens of moments that hadn’t been captured, it didn’t make those happy faces a lie.

“Tomorrow, okay?” I whispered. “We can talk tomorrow.”

Because no matter what had happened twenty years ago, history had taught me that there would always be a tomorrow for us.