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He looks from me, to the boy, and back again.

“Dad. This lady thinks you’re my brother.”

Luke’s mouth twitches. “Does she?”

“Yep.”

Then Luke looks at me, and something in his expression shifts from amused to careful.

“What did I miss?”

I glance down at the boy. Then back up at Luke.

“You have a son?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

His eyebrows lift. “I didn’t?”

I shake my head slowly.

“I thought he was your little brother.”

For a second, he just stares at me.

“I told you I had to leave to pick him up from school?” he says.

“You did.”

“You saw my Instagram.”

“I did.”

“It’s basically all pictures of Bo.”

I press one hand to my face. “It was.”

“I just...” He laughs softly, like he’s replaying the whole thing. “I guess I assumed you knew.”

“And I assumed...” I gesture vaguely at the boy, at the dinosaur, at the wreckage of my dignity. “Something else entirely.”

“So we’re even.”

“We are not even. You have a whole child.”

Bo, who has been tracking this exchange like a tennis match, offers helpfully, “I’m not a child. I’m ten.”

“See?” I say. “A whole…kid.”

Luke is full-on smiling now. “You’re taking this well.”

“I’m a professional. I’m trained to appear calm in a crisis.” Which is the only reason he can’t see that under the calm I’m doing rapid, undignified arithmetic, and none of the sums are adding up to run.

“Is this a crisis?” He laughs.

Before I can respond, an older woman appears at Luke’s side.