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Monica to the young man.
He appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
My stomach dropped.
Twenty-seven years.
“No,” I whispered.
Luke stopped beside his mother.
“I found out about Daniel three months ago. Mom finally told me his name.”
Monica looked away.
Luke continued.
“I came here because I wanted to meet him. I just didn’t know how to walk up to a stranger and say, ‘You’re the father you never knew you were.’”
“You were waiting all this time?”
He nodded.
“Every week I promised myself I’d finally talk to him. Mom kept saying we needed to be sure. That there would be a better moment.”
His voice trembled slightly.
“Then there wasn’t another moment.”
For a second, something in Luke’s expression looked so much like Daniel whenever he was nervous that I forgot to breathe.
Then Luke said the words.
“Daniel was my father.”
I turned toward Monica.
