My phone buzzes on the cushion beside me. Then buzzes again when I don’t check it.
I frown and pick it up, Roz’s name filling the screen, followed by a rapid cascade of messages that stack faster than I can read them.
My stomach drops.
Probably just ordering issues. Nothing as important as spending time with my son. I sit there, phone warm in my hand,watching Mason chase his dinosaur across the rug, and Aiden rinse the last mug at the sink. It’s a perfect morning. I won’t let the outside world ruin it.
That’s the reasonable explanation.
The honest one is that I’m afraid of what Roz is going to say, because Roz doesn’t text like that unless something is wrong. But I have had a lifetime of bad news, and I can’t stomach more. I slip my phone into my pocket and push myself up from the couch.
“Mason,” I say lightly. “Why don’t you go pick out clothes for today? Something comfortable.”
“Can I wear my fire truck shirt?” he asks without looking up.
“Absolutely.”
He takes off down the hall at full speed, dinosaur clutched in one hand, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake. I wait until his bedroom door closes before I exhale slowly and head toward the kitchen.
Aiden looks at me immediately. He must see something on my face, because his expression shifts from easy to attentive in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitate. This is the moment where I decide how much to let him in, how quickly. But if we’re doing this, that means doing everything, right? Treating him like a partner… it feels like too much so soon, but I think we’re past the tentative stuff by now. “Roz texted,” I say finally. “A lot.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t fill the silence with speculation. He waits, which somehow makes it harder.
“I haven’t read them yet,” I add. “I didn’t want Mason to notice me get upset. And I didn’t want to be upset. But she doesn’t text like this, which means?—”
“It’s bad.” Aiden nods once. “Do you want me to get him ready for the park?” The offer is simple. Practical. Not possessive.
“Yes,” I say, relieved. “Thank you.”
He wipes his hands on a towel and heads down the hall without another word, already calling out to Mason about socks and whether dinosaurs are allowed to wear hoodies. Their voices fade together, and the apartment feels quieter again, but not empty.
I pull my phone back out and finally open the messages. They flood the screen all at once.
Are you awake?
Call me.
No—don’t call. Get here.
Something’s wrong.
Please tell me you’re seeing this.
911!!! Bring Aiden!
My chest tightens. Roz is not a dramatic person. She is competent to a fault, steady in crises, the kind of woman you want standing next to you when things fall apart. If she’s panicking, there’s a reason.
I lock the phone and press it to my thigh. This is what I was afraid of.
The way life refuses to pause just because you’ve found something good. I look around the penthouse, at the quiet kitchen, the soft morning light, the evidence of breakfast still on the counter. But I can’t afford to cling to this moment if something is wrong at the bar.
Aiden reappears a few minutes later with Mason fully dressed and mostly presentable, one sneaker untied but otherwise ready. Mason barrels toward me, proud and loud, and I paste on a smile that I hope passes muster. “Mommy! Aiden says I can bring my dinosaur in my backpack.”
I nod. “That’s fine.”
Aiden studies my face more closely now, concern sharpening again. “You okay?”
