She opened the door and looked up at a tall young man, with blond hair and blue eyes. Her knees went weak and she sagged against the door, tears burning her eyes.
She knew. From the instant she saw his face, she knew.
He was nervous. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I—are you Milla Edge?”
“Milla Diaz, now,” she managed to say.
He cleared his throat again, and darted a wary look over her shoulder. She knew Diaz had come up even before his strong hand slid around her waist and drew her against him in support.
“I—uh—I’m Zack Winborn. Justin. Your son,” he added, unnecessarily.
Her face was wet, her eyes overflowing; the tears blurred his features. A sob burst out of her before she could stop it, and an alarmed expression crossed his face. Just as suddenly the sob turned into laughter, and she reached out and took his hand. “I’ve waited so long,” she said, and drew him into the house.