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He wiggles to get down, suddenly motivated by the prospect of going outside. I watch him start shoving blocks into the bin at record speed.

Fucking kids man.

Chapter forty-four

Blaire

Imake it halfway down the hall before mom guilt sets in.

Not even fully into the bedroom.

Simon is with Theo after working all day, cleaning up the disaster our son made, and I'm...what?

Going to lie down?

Take a bath?

Stare at the ceiling?

It feels wrong.

I hear Theo's little voice. “Daddy, I did all these.”

“Good. Keep going.”

“But that's a lot.”

“Yeah. You dumped out a lot.”

“Can you do that side?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because you made the mess.”

“But my arms are tired.”

“Your arms weren't tired when you threw the truck.”

A laugh escapes me.

Fine.

They're okay.

He's got him.

I force myself to keep walking.

Our bedroom looks exactly like we left it this morning. Bed half made because Simon got up after me and apparently thinks pulling the comforter vaguely toward the pillows constitutes making it. His sweatshirt is hanging over the chair. My slippers are on opposite sides of the room.

I close the door.

For a minute, I just stand there.

No one is touching me.