His voice cracked on the final word.
“I can’t ask you to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But I need to know them somehow, someday, in whatever way you allow.”
Julian remained silent beside me.
Me volví hacia él, esperando tensión, resentimiento o miedo.
En cambio, Julian miró directamente a Blake y dijo: “Entonces comienza haciendo lo que Emma le pidió”.
Blake nodded.
“I will.”
He stepped backward, but before he reached the walkway, the front door behind me swung open wider.
Noah stood there.
Flour dusted his cheek, and he held a half-eaten pancake in one hand.
– ¿Mamá? Me preguntó.
Rápidamente me moví hacia él. “Bebé, vuelve adentro.”
But Noah was looking at Blake again.
Blake stood frozen.
Noah studied him with the solemn, uncanny intelligence that always seemed to make adults tell the truth.
“You’re crying,” Noah observed.
Blake raised a hand to his face, apparently surprised to discover the tears.
