Namara's POV:

Alexander and I found a table near the window of the restaurant, one with a checkered tablecloth and a small vase of fresh daisies that smelled faintly of spring. The place was practically empty with just us and a teenage boy at the far end of the restaurant with our corner shielded by the tall potted plant beside us.

Letting out a chuckle, I set my handbag down. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Nicolle had to lie about her own son’s identity right in front of us, just to ...