“You don’t know anything about babies,” Dad points out.
“I’ll learn.” I look at Henry, who’s now trying to eat the car-seat strap. “I have to.”
Another long pause. “Are you sure, son?”
“I’m sure. Amy wouldn’t want you to risk your health. She’d want you to take care of yourselves so you can be here when she wakes up.”
Whenshe wakes up. Notif. I have to believe it’swhen.
“Call us every day,” Mom says, her voice thick with tears. “Multiple times a day. And if you need anything or any advice, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I will. I promise.”
After I hang up, the car feels impossibly quiet except for Henry’s soft baby sounds. I turn around and reach out to him, his tiny hand curling around my finger. For the first time since my boss delivered the news, I feel something other than panic.
This is Amy’s son. My nephew. Family.
I spent years in foster care wondering if anyone would ever choose me, if I’d ever really belong somewhere. Amy was the first person who made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world.
Now it’s my turn to make sure Henry never feels that way.
“We’re going to be okay,” I tell him, and maybe myself too. “Your mom is the strongest person I know. She’s going to wake up, and until then, you’re stuck with me.”
Henry makes a sound that might be agreement or might be gas, but I choose to take it as encouragement.
Tomorrow I’ll figure out how to be responsible for another human being. Tonight, I just need to keep us both alive until morning.
How hard can it be?
CHAPTER 4
ALEXA
The application form stares back at me from the small table in the corner of Amelie’s Boutique. Retail experience? I write down my summer job at the mall during college. Sales goals? I make something up about exceeding expectations. Why do you want to work here? Because I need money to keep my house and send my son on a school trip.
I don’t write that last part.
“Take your time,” the manager, Daniella, says as she organizes a rack of sweaters nearby. She’s probably in her mid-twenties, with perfectly styled hair and the kind of confident smile that suggests she’s never worried about paying bills.
I fill in the last few lines and hand the application back to her. “Thank you for considering me.”
“We’ll be in touch within the week.” Daniella’s smile is polite but noncommittal. “We’re interviewing several candidates.”
Of course they are. I shake her hand and walk out of the boutique, feeling every one of my thirty-two years. Here Iam, applying for retail positions alongside college students and twenty-somethings who are just starting out, while I’m trying to rebuild a career that got derailed by circumstances beyond my control. Two weeks of job hunting and this is what it’s come to. Applying for retail positions that pay barely above minimum wage.
The math is depressing. Even if I get this job, the salary will just cover our basic expenses. No room for savings, no money for Ash’s trip, and definitely no breathing room if something goes wrong.
But maybe I can find something else on the weekends. Online tutoring, freelance writing—something I can do from home while Ash plays or does homework. Or maybe there’s a Saturday job where I could bring him along.
I’m grasping at straws and I know it.
The drive to Ash’s school gives me time to compose myself. By the time I pull into the pickup line, I’ve managed to paste on a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as forced as it feels.
I’m a few minutes early, so I park and walk toward the school entrance, where clusters of kids wait for their rides. I spot Ash near the flagpole with his backpack, but he’s not alone. Three other boys from his class stand nearby, and from their body language, something’s wrong.
“Maybe if your mom wasn’t so poor, you could afford to go on the trip,” one of them says, loud enough for me to hear.
My blood turns cold.
