“I didn’t mean—”

“I just found out I have four six-year-old sons I’ve never met, and you’re sorry about my evening.”

Her composure finally cracked.

For the first time in thirty-five years, I walked away from my mother while she was still speaking.

Genevieve was waiting in my office when I got there.

She was sitting behind my desk with her shoes off and her feet tucked under her, which was so unexpectedly human that I stopped in the doorway.

She was still in the blue silk she’d been going to wear that evening.