“Yep.”
Owen looked at the wall like it was a museum exhibit.
The children were not simply meeting Nathan.
They were meeting their father through him.
That mattered.
I saw it, and though it hurt, it also steadied me.
My visits continued too, though they changed. Sometimes I met them at the agency. Sometimes Dr. Patel included me in therapy sessions when the children asked. Once, with permission from everyone, we met at a park.
It was the first time I saw Lily run.
Really run.
Not hurry because someone told her to.
Not move quickly to avoid being scolded.
Run.
Her curls bounced behind her as she chased Owen across the grass, both of them shrieking with laughter while Nathan pretended to be too slow to catch them.
Marco stood beside me near a bench, holding a paper bag of sandwiches.
“You’re smiling,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Don’t make it strange.”
“It’s already strange.”
I glanced at him.
He nodded toward the children. “Good strange.”
Owen tripped and fell, palms first into the grass.
