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“I already know what you’re going to say,” I cut in, my voice tight. I’m already tired of the conversation and we haven’t even started it. “You want to apologize? Apologize to your son.”

“I’m apologizing to you because I know me not calling affected you too.” His brows pull together, just slightly, and it’s the kind of look I know means he’s being sincere.

Damn him.

It’s hard to stay mad when he looks at me like that.

I sigh, eyes scanning the bleachers to make sure none of the other parents are being nosy.

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “You not calling when you have a date?”

“No. No.” He shakes his head, quickly, almost too quickly. “It was just the one time—for our anniversary—”

“Anniversary?” My head snaps up, and the surprise is all over my face before I can stop it.

I knew he dated. Casual things here and there. My friends have screenshotted his Tinder profile more than once like it was breaking news. He had that one summer fling with the roommate of an old college friend—ended it before it even started getting serious. Told her flat out that Theo came first. I’d been proud of him for that, even if I never said it.

But anniversary?

He fumbles. “Yeah. Uh… yeah, I’ve been seeing someone for a couple months.”

I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. “Wow. Okay. Like… do I need to prepare to meet her?”

“No.” His answer is immediate, sharp. “No, not there yet.”

I nod, because I don’t know what else to do.

“I won’t miss another call,” Simon says, voice low, steady. He steps closer. “I swear.”

I glance at him, and for a second I see the version of him from years ago. The one who used to promise me the world in that same voice, and then couldn’t follow through when things got real.

"Go Crane! Go!" the T-ball coach yells, snapping both of us out of it.

I turn just in time to see Theo drop the bat and tear off toward first base, arms pumping, little cleats kicking up dust like he’s chasing a gold medal.

Simon’s already yelling, hands cupped around his mouth. “Go Theo! That’s my boy! Go!”

Theo launches himself onto the base like it might run away if he doesn’t, then turns and flashes us both a proud, toothy grin.

“Good job, baby!” I shout, cupping my hands around my mouth.

“Damn, he’s fast,” Simon says, still watching. “That’s definitely from you.”

I snort. “Glad my years in track amounted to something other than wrecked knees.”

He pulls out his phone to record, but I catch the way his smile drops for a second. He swipes something away on the screen before angling the camera toward Theo.

“Everything alright?” I ask, the question slips out before I can stop it. The pit in my stomach is immediate.

His answer is quick. “Yeah.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you getting—?”

“No,” he cuts me off, shaking his head. “No, not a deployment. Nothing like that.”

I nod slowly, watching him. “Do you want to—”

“Go, Theo! Go, go, go!” Simon shouts, cutting me off as our son bolts from first base to second like his life depends on it.