that from me.”
For a moment, Edward resembled Benjamin so closely that I turned toward the window. I pictured Edward as our son, in another version of life.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Did he marry?”
Edward’s grip tightened on the wheel.
“Yes.”
“Did he marry?”
The word stung more than it should have.
“Who was she?”
“My mother helped him continue reading …