Ethan gathered the blanket and letters, descended the stage steps, and walked straight past Denise.
Straight toward me.
This time, he did not give me a look asking me to wait.
He climbed over the empty chair beside mine and wrapped both arms around my neck.
I held him.
“Was that too much?” he whispered.
It nearly broke me.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I changed the speech.”
“I noticed.”
“I thought you might.”
I laughed into his hair.
Then I felt another hand on his back.
Denise.
For one instant, all three of us were connected by the same child.
Ethan pulled away first.
Denise did not try to hug him.
That mattered.
Instead, she crouched slightly so they were closer to eye level.
“I owe you a conversation,” she said.
“You owe Mom one first.”
Denise looked at me.
“I know.”
Mom spoke behind us.
“We all do.”
