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“I told you I wanted to see you again. I told you I could come to California. I told you we could make the distance work.” I pause.

“I didn’t tell you everything.”

Blaire shakes her head.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

She looks toward the lawn again.

I step closer, keeping my voice quiet.

“All those years ago, I made a decision for both of us because I thought ending things was the only way I could keep everything else from falling apart. I’ve told you I was wrong, and I’m not here to give you another apology you’ve already heard.”

“Then what are you here to say?” Blaire asks.

I look directly at her.

“The thing I should’ve said before I let you walk away then, and the thing I should’ve said before you walked out of that restaurant.”

Her expression changes. For a second, the anger slips. I take another breath.

“Blaire, I—”

“Mommy!”

A child’s voice cuts across the lawn.

Blaire’s entire body goes rigid.

I turn toward the sound and see a little boy running toward us. He reaches Blaire within seconds and wraps both arms around her waist.

“Mom, look what—”

He stops when he notices me.

I stop breathing.

Dark hair.

Pale blue eyes.

The shape of his face.

The straight line of his nose.

Something about him hits me with such force that my mind refuses to process it properly. I have seen that face before.

Not this exact face.

A younger version of it.

In photographs.

In mirrors.

I look at Blaire. The color has completely left her face.