Chapter 2

Monday morning, and for once, Andrew didn't leave. He was still at the dining table when Chloe was having her breakfast.

He'd cooked eggs, fumbled the shell off, and held it out to her. "Chloe. Come eat your egg. Daddy'll take you to school today."

Chloe looked at the egg, then at him. She looked down and pushed his hand to the side. "I want Mommy to take me."

Something in his face tightened. He turned to me, voice almost pleading. "Emily. Let me take her. I haven't been with her for a while."

I was going to say no, but Chloe glanced over at me, and I saw the flicker of something half-hoping, half-dreading in her eyes. I let out a breath. "Fine. Don't make her late."

Andrew was on his feet and scooped Chloe up. I followed them to the garage. I opened the passenger door and stopped.

The black SUV, the one we picked together, was not our car anymore. A blue child's car seat sat in the back, Ultraman across the headrest.

On the dashboard, Andrew's favorite black walnut frame held a picture of Clara and Lucas. The back seat was an archaeology of another family: Transformers, a remote-control plane, a woman's silk scarf pooled across the leather.

And hanging from the rearview mirror was a small photo charm. Andrew. Clara. Lucas. All three of them were grinning like a Sunday.

It felt like I'd opened the wrong door and stepped straight into someone else's life.

Andrew followed my gaze. He quickly took the charm down and shoved it into the glove compartment. "Lucas left that there last time. I just haven't had time to clear things out. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" I repeated and let out a small laugh. "This is my car too, Andrew. Did it ever once occur to you to ask how I might feel, getting in and finding this?"

"I didn't plan it." A faint impatience crept into his voice. "Kids make a mess. It doesn't mean anything. Can we not do this now?"

"You're right," I said. I unbuckled Chloe and lifted her onto my hip. "This car is disgusting. We're getting a cab."

"Emily Bennett!" He caught my wrist. "Can you stop? I'm trying here. I'm trying to be with her, and you're making it impossible—"

His phone rang. The ringtone was a child's voice.

As soon as he picked up, Clara's voice spilled out, high and frightened. "Andrew, please come. Lucas fell and hit his head. I don't know what to do."

Something shifted in his face. His grip on my wrist loosened at once. "I'm on my way," he said, already reaching for his keys.

He didn't look at us. The engine turned over, and the black SUV reversed out of the garage and disappeared around the corner.

Chloe looked up at me with eyes too old for her face. "Mommy," she said. "Daddy is Lucas's dad now. He's not mine anymore."

I crouched down, wiped the mud from her face, and pulled her close. "It's okay, Chloe. Mommy's not going anywhere."

We took a cab to kindergarten. At the gate, Chloe paused by the rubbish bin and dropped the painting in.

That evening, Andrew's message came: [Lucas is still in hospital. Staying here tonight. Don't wait up.]

I didn't reply. I took Chloe to the little ceramics studio instead, and we made a rabbit. When it was done, she grabbed the rabbit by the ear and whispered, "Mommy, this rabbit is my family now."

I watched her serious face, and my chest ached in a way I couldn't explain.