“Rex, honey.”
“No. You don’t get to touch us right now.”
I pointed toward the side gate. “Leave.”
“Tired mothers are still mothers.”
“Dawn, please.”
“All contact goes through a lawyer.”
“You’re cutting me off from my family?”
“No,” I said. “You did that eighteen years ago.”
***
After she left, Rowan stayed near the porch steps.
Riley glanced at him. “Do you like chocolate cake?”
“Dawn, please.”
Rowan gave a broken little laugh. “I don’t know. I usually had vanilla.”
Rex wiped his eyes. “That’s tragic. We’ll fix that first.”
I brought out the cake and lit three small candles.
One for each of my sons.
Watson whispered, “Make a wish.”
I looked at my sons. We weren’t fixed, and we weren’t whole yet, but we were finally standing in the same light.
