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“There’s a bug on the website I’ve been working on. I’m almost done fixing it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

It may be the first nice thing he’s done for me since our separation.

“I know that you probably think I’m the worst person in the world right now, but I do genuinely hope you and the agency succeed.”

This agency is as much his baby as it is mine, so I’m sure he’d hate to see it run to the ground. It doesn’t excuse anything that he’s done, but the knot in my belly untightens ever so slightly.

At three p.m., I wait for Chase in front of the elementary school. I wave to the other moms, some of them friends. Even their pitying glances can’t bring me down today, I’m too eager to see my son.

I see him walking with his friend Mason and my heart beats faster. Our eyes meet. His face lights up. But he walks toward me at a painfully slow pace, keeping up with Mason.

Finally, he waves Mason goodbye and comes to stand in front of me.

I gather him into my arms, kissing his cheek. “I missed you!”

“Mom!”

I tighten my arms, not ready to let go. “I love you, baby.”

He finally wraps his arms around my neck. “I love you too.”

I close my eyes to stop them from getting teary.

“Mom! Everyone’s watching.”

I give him one last kiss and let him go. “Sorry.”

I run my hand through his short hair. It’s soft and familiar, my baby’s hair.

“You want to get cake?”

He gives me a wide grin that makes him look four years younger. “Yeah!”

It’s been a tradition of ours ever since he started first grade that every Friday we get cake at Avery’s cafe after school. Fridays have been particularly hard for me since the separation whenever Chase was with Ethan.

We walk the five minutes through the old town to get to the Grove Grind Cafe. I ask Chase all about his week, and he excitedly tells me about his little league practice, and how they split up into teams and his team won.

I want to ask him how he feels about his dad and Charlotte. I want to know what he thinks about his dad keeping the house, but I bite my tongue for now. His excitement is infectious.

We grab our favorite seat by the window. I remove the reserved sign I asked Avery to put up and go to the counter to place our orders.

Sophia, Avery’s fifteen-year-old daughter, greets me with an excited smile.

“Auntie Amelia!”

My radar goes off loud and clear. She hasn’t called me Auntie in over five years.

“Hi Sophia. You’re helping out today?”

She sticks her tongue out. “Sometimes I swear mom had us kids just so she could get free labor out of us. If she had her way, Grace and Chloe would be working here too.”

Grace and Chloe are her twelve- and ten-year-old sisters.

“Doesn’t she pay you?”

“She better. I’m her best worker.”