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“You were hiding what you’d done.”
“I said your mother couldn’t raise you.”
“I could have,” I said. “Tired mothers are still mothers.”
Riley looked at Mom. “Grandma, did you know he was alive this whole time?”
She didn’t answer.
Rex stepped back when she reached for him. “Don’t.”
“Rex, honey.”
“No. You don’t get to touch us right now.”
I pointed toward the side gate. “Leave.”
“Tired mothers are still mothers.”
“Dawn, please.”
“All contact goes through a lawyer.”
“You’re cutting me off from my family?”
“No,” I said. “You did that eighteen years ago.”
***
After she left, Rowan stayed near the porch steps.
Riley glanced at him. “Do you like chocolate cake?”
“Dawn, please.”
Rowan gave a broken little laugh. “I don’t know. I usually had vanilla.”
Rex wiped his eyes. “That’s tragic. We’ll fix that first.”
I brought out the cake and lit three small candles.
One for each of my sons.
Watson whispered, “Make a wish.”
I looked at my sons. We weren’t fixed, and we weren’t whole yet, but we were finally standing in the same light.
“I already got mine back,” I said. “Now we learn how to keep it.”
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