“Mom, are you crying again?”
My oldest daughter stood in the doorway with her hair tied back, concern written across her face.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just remembering.”
“You always say that.”
I returned the picture to its place and forced a smile that felt heavier than ever.
“Because it’s always true. Now come help me. Your brother has a thousand ideas for this pool party, and I need backup.”
She walked over and wrapped her arms around me.
For a few seconds, I allowed myself to lean into the comfort.
Then my son rushed into the kitchen carrying a wrinkled guest list.
“Mom, I want everyone there. The whole family, my friends from school, the neighbors. Everyone.”
“It’s my fifteenth birthday. It’s important.”
His excitement reminded me of the boy he had been before the divorce changed everything.
“Then everyone it is.”
He hesitated before asking the question that landed like a stone in my chest.
“He’s still your father. Of course.”
My son nodded slowly.
“Okay. Thanks, Mom… Do you think he’ll actually come?”
I couldn’t answer.
Since leaving us for his mistress, Jordan had missed far too much of our children’s lives.
