“It’s the adoption support group,” she said. “I went a few weeks ago, once we knew about the match, and they’ve agreed to an emergency meeting – adoption triage, they call it. They’re good at it, so they say. But maybe you should … I should be alone when they get here.” She checked her watch. It was two minutes to one. “Which is now,” she said, her voice rising. “They’ll get here now, or soon.”
Dylan had his coat on and was easing a glove over his wrist. “You’ll do fine,” he said, his words resonant with care. “You will make a beautiful life.”
She stopped rummaging and slid herself to the edge.
“Don’t get up,” he said. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“Yes, we will,” she said, only now aware of the panic she felt at his leaving the coffee shop. She had left him, but she hadn’t wanted t
