Rachel froze, her shocked gaze moving from Andrew to the little girl and back again. Was it possible that she’d misunderstood the child’s words? But no, she could see it now. The familial resemblance wasn’t obvious, but it was there—in the shape of her eyes, the curve of her mouth, and even the way she tilted her head when she looked at Rachel. She was a beautiful girl with cornflower-blue eyes, a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and a cupid’s-bow mouth. Her shoulder-length blond hair was held away from her face with butterfly barrettes. The puffy purple coat she wore was unzipped to reveal a lilac-colored fleece sweater with a bouquet of pink applique daisies on the front and pink corduroy pants. If she had to guess, Rachel would say she was around seven years old, but all of the details that buzzed around in her mind were insignificant compared to the fact that this child was undoubtedly Andrew’s child.
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