Before the moment can get any heavier, Laddie looks up, cheeks stuffed with chicken wrap, eyebrows lifted in deep, five-year-old thought. “Mama, can we get sprinkles for pancakes tonight? Dinosaurs eat sprinkles. That’s why they don’t get cavities.”
Talia snorts, and I nearly choke on my laughter. “That’s science,” she says, straight-faced.
Laddie nods, all seriousness. “And if I get blue sprinkles, I’ll have super speed. Green ones make you invisible. But only if you eat them with syrup, not just plain.”
Talia leans in, whispering, “What about red sprinkles?”
He chews thoughtfully. “Red is for danger. If you eat too many, you fart fire. That’s what happened to the last T. rex.”
We both burst out laughing, tension melting away. “If you’re a dinosaur, Laddie, you’ll be the fastest and weirdest one in Chicago,” Talia says, ruffling his hair.
I wipe my eyes and shove away my salad, the knot in my chest loosening. “We’d better get home before you turn into a velociraptor, buddy.”
Laddie shrugs, mouth already full again. “Velociraptors are just big chickens without feathers.”
We gather up napkins and empty cups. As we step outside, Laddie skips between us, clutching a napkin covered in doodles, his little hand in each of ours.
“Can we have pancakes every night? And also, I think I invented a new dinosaur called Sprinkle-saurus.”
Talia chuckles, “I think he belongs in the Museum of Breakfast.”
And as we walk home, the world feels heavy and bright and silly, all at once.
It’s a strangelyquiet night in the ER.
I sit at the nurses’ station, fiddling with my phone until I finally cave and send Liam a little waving emoji. I wait, but nothing comes back. With every silent minute, my heart grows heavier.
Every time I check my phone, there’s still nothing from him.
I keep thinking about that night at his place, how it felt like we’d finally found our way back to each other, how I almost told him everything.
I was ready to let him in, ready to introduce him to his son.
Now, all that hope feels foolish.
Maybe I waited too long. Perhaps I’ve damaged something that can’t be repaired.
I keep replaying the sight of those three mafia guys on his lawn, the way my stomach dropped. He seemed okay then, but what if something happened after? I can’t shake the worry, not for a second.
When my shift ends early, I hurry home.
When I step inside, I find Talia sitting cross-legged at the foot of Laddie’s little bed, readingThe Day the Crayons Quitin her best silly voices. Laddie’s under his dinosaur sheets, eyes wide and heavy, but still fighting sleep with every ounce of his stubbornness.
“—and then Yellow Crayon said, ‘I am the true color of the sun!’ But Orange said, ‘No way, it’s definitely me,’” Talia reads, making her voice extra dramatic.
Laddie giggles, clutching his stuffed alligator. “Auntie Tal, maybe the sun is a rainbow. That way everyone’s happy.”
Talia looks up and catches my eye, smiling softly. “Hey, look who’s home just in time for the grand finale.”
I cross to the bed, heart lifting at the sight of them together. “Did I miss the best part?”
Laddie grins sleepily. “Nope. The best part is you’re home.” He squirms up, reaching his arms for a hug. “Mama, guess what? Auntie Tal does a voice for every crayon, but her purple sounds like a duck.”
Talia rolls her eyes, closing the book. “It’s called creative, kid.”
I lean down and kiss his forehead, brushing back his hair. “I love you, Laddie. Sleep tight, okay?”
He nods, already half gone, clutching my hand. “Love you, Mama.
