whispered, “Is that…?”
“Yes.”
My hands were freezing.
“Do the kids know what he looks like?”
“No.”
They had seen one old wedding photo when they were younger, but Adam at forty-five looked different enough that I doubted they would recognize him immediately.
I wanted to leave.
Every instinct screamed at me to grab the children and go home.
Then the lights dimmed.
Andy’s band was already preparing onstage.
Too late.
The concert began.
I barely heard the first song.
I kept looking toward Adam.
He hadn’t noticed me.
Then the girl beside him performed a solo with the choir.
Adam stood with everyone else afterward and applauded.
He looked proud.
My throat tightened.
A few minutes later, Andy’s jazz band came onstage.
Andy played saxophone.
He was nervous.
I could always tell because his left foot bounced.
When he finished his solo, the auditorium applauded.
Adam clapped too.
Then
