The Photograph That Led Me to My Twins—and the Letters My Mother Hid for Three Years
“You mean with outside counsel present?” he asked.
“Yes.
Counsel who doesn’t work for my mother.”
I had barely ended the call when footsteps sounded overhead.
Lucas came down the stairs, carrying a stuffed rabbit under one arm.
“The children are asking about dinner,” he told Savannah.
Then he looked at me.
“You should go.”