Sophie thought. She had Jason's hazel eyes and Rachel's mouth and a seriousness that belonged to neither of them entirely. "Was the tall man why you were sad? You can say yes. I'm not a baby."
"Yes," Rachel said. She sat on the floor too, so the truth would not come from a height. "I hurt your dad by loving another person in a way that was supposed to be only for our marriage. The tall man was part of it. The other part was me. We have been working very hard to be honest and to stay a family. You did not cause it, and you are not the glue. You are Sophie. The repair is our job."
"Are you done working hard?"
Jason answered. "No. Probably people are never done. But we are not in the night of the cake anymore. We are in a regular Tuesday. If that changes, you won't be the last to know in the ways that touch your life. That's a promise."
Sophie nodded, satisfied in the provisional way of children who understand that adults are weather systems. "Okay. Can we get milkshakes?"
"Yes," they said, in unison again, and this time the unison did not startle. It was just their voice, the one they had rebuilt out of smaller agreements.