My voice was steady, but my heart was hammering against my ribs.

Blake stared at Toby, who was sucking his thumb and staring back with those identical silver-blue eyes.

“Your sons,” Blake repeated, his voice barely audible over the airport din.

“Mommy, who is the sad man?” Noah asked, pointing a small finger at Blake.

“Just someone mommy used to know, sweetie,” I murmured, kissing the top of his head.

I looked up at Clara, my closest friend, who was standing a few feet away with a look of absolute horror on her face.

She had brought the boys to surprise me at the airport, not knowing Blake would be on the same flight from New York.

“Clara, please take them to the car,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

“Emma, wait,” Blake stepped forward, his hand reaching out instinctively.

I stood up, stepping between him and my children.

“Do not touch them,” I said, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

Clara didn’t hesitate.

She gathered the boys, ushering them quickly toward the automatic glass doors.