Marianne answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

I felt the hallway narrow.

I had the irrational urge to explain that I had not known there were two babies.

I had known about the pregnancy, and that distinction made my ignorance less innocent, not more.

At the time I had believed an arrangement could take care of the matter from a distance.

I had signed papers, transferred money, and refused every attempt to discuss what would happen after the birth.

“I’m Adrian,” I said stupidly.

“We know your name,” Sophie replied.

It was not an accusation.

It was the clean, unadorned voice of a child stating a fact.

A door opened behind me.

Event volunteers rolled a cart loaded with water bottles toward the auditorium.

Marianne guided the girls aside to make room.