Oliver froze at the sight of tears, panicked. “Are you broken, Mommy? Do you need a Band-Aid?”
“I’m not broken. I’m fine.” She sniffled, laughing through it.
J bit their lip, serious. “Are yousure? We can get you water.”
“I am fine.” She dropped her leather tote and scooped them both into her arms, crushing them so tight their little suits wrinkled. She kissed their wild curls as tears streaked her cheeks and whispered words only they could hear.
Perfect.
My throat tightened.
My eyes stung.
I’d grown up in a house where emotions were rationed, where my father praised report cards more than embraces. But here, in this little entryway with rose petals and giggling children, love poured out raw and unfiltered.
“Alright. Let’s see what my babies have in store for me tonight.” She let them drag her forward, following the trail of roses toward the dining table.
Suddenly, the chef appeared from the kitchen with a cocktail on a silver tray. “Happy Mother’s day.”
“Ah!!” She shrieked in shock, nearly tripping over her heels. “What the hell?! Who are you?!”
Oliver slapped Chef Marco’s hand in a victorious high-five. “He’s the chef, Mommy. He cooked food for us tonight.”
Her jaw dropped. “But. . .what. . .how. . .”
I couldn’t stop chuckling.
She pointed at Chef Marco. “Who hired you? Where did you come from?”
Unbothered, Chef Marco bowed and handed her the cocktail. “Your little ones hired me. I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Her mouth fell open. “Okay. Hold on.” She took the cocktail automatically. “What’s really going on here?”
J beamed like the world’s best liar. “We saved up our allowance, Mommy.”
“Okay, but—”
“Mommy, come see our gifts!” Oliver tugged her toward the table, practically skipping with excitement.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
My chest ached.
It’s done. They’re fine from here.
Quietly, I backed away from the window.
This was their night, not mine.
But. . .I couldn’t leave just yet. . .
For whatever reason. . .I lingered in the backyard, watching and listening to them. I made sure to hide on the side where our nosy neighbor Mrs. Patterson couldn’t see me.
Teyonah’s laughter carried out to the backyard. The boys’ chatter rose and fell. The clink of silverware on porcelain sang out as the first plates were served.
My heart ached even more.
Moving away from the window and getting deeper into the shadows, I leaned against the brick wall, slid my hands into my pockets, and tried to steady the rush in my veins.
