Chapter 3

“Their mother did. Why was she there in the first place?” I said.

In the rearview mirror, Lily was touching the blunt ends of her hair. Each time she did, I saw Sophie outside the school telling me I should understand.

“We need someone reliable when you’re working,” Ethan said. “I’m their father. I can add an emergency contact.”

“And the haircut?”

“She had gum in her hair. Sophie handled it.”

His voice stayed calm, as if the problem were already solved. To him, the result mattered more than whether I had been erased from the decision.

“Most mothers would be grateful for the help,” he added.

“Most husbands would tell their wives before giving another woman access to their children.”

“You’re jealous, Grace.”

Every boundary I named became jealousy. Every choice he made became a favor I had failed to appreciate.

“Starting next week, you’ll pick up the kids every Tuesday and Thursday. You’ll take Noah to soccer and attend Lily’s classroom reading hour.”

“So you’re punishing me?”

“Taking care of your own children isn’t a punishment.”

I pulled into our driveway but remained behind the wheel. If I went inside, Lily would hear the rest of this conversation.

“What happens when a client meeting runs late?” Ethan asked.

“You solve it the way I’ve been solving it for ten years.”

“Maybe the kids prefer Sophie because she doesn’t make everything difficult.”

He hung up.

Three days later, Noah and Lily brought home their Mother’s Day projects.

Lily’s card was covered in purple fingerprints.

My mom always knows where my things are.

Inside, she had drawn me holding her backpack and a bottle of medicine.

Noah left his paper facedown on the counter. When I turned it over, I found two headings.

Mom: She knows where everything is and makes sure I’m on time.

Sophie: She makes us happy and never says no for no reason.

Beside Sophie’s name was a gold star containing two words.

Backup Mom.

“Noah, who told you I say no for no reason?”

He bit into his apple. “Everybody knows.”

“Who is everybody?”

“Dad says you worry about everything.”

He didn’t sound angry. He sounded certain. Ethan had repeated those words until our son no longer recognized them as someone else’s opinion.

“What does ‘backup mom’ mean?” I asked.

“That’s what Dad calls Sophie.”

“When?”

“When you say no to stuff.”

Noah reached for a napkin. I almost handed him one automatically, then watched him take it himself.

“Dad says we can ask Sophie because she’s our backup mom,” he continued.

“And what does she usually say?”

“Yes.”

Ethan had not given Sophie my responsibilities. He had given her the pleasure of overruling me.

That evening, I put Noah’s paper in front of him.

“Have you been calling Sophie their backup mom?”

Ethan glanced at it. “It’s a joke.”

“You taught our children that my answers don’t count.”

He pushed the paper away. My name disappeared beneath his hand, while Sophie’s gold star remained visible.

“You make everything feel like a rule, Grace.”

“Because you turn every boundary into something the children should resent me for.”

“You’re exhausting.”

He stood and opened the refrigerator, giving me his back. Even now, he would rather end the conversation than admit what he had done.

“Let me take everyone to brunch on Sunday,” he said. “We’ll have a nice Mother’s Day and reset.”

“Just the four of us. You, me, Noah, and Lily.”

His hand paused on the refrigerator door.

Then he nodded. “Fine. Just us.”

On Sunday morning, Noah waited by the front door with two bouquets.

One card said Mom.

The other said Bonus Mom.

“Who helped you choose those?”

“Dad. He said Sophie shouldn’t feel left out on Mother’s Day.”

Noah smiled, proud of what he thought was a kind surprise.

My husband had promised me a table for four, but my son was carrying flowers for a fifth person.