Me:Best night of my life. I’ll call you later
Sophie:YOU BETTER
I set my phone down and look back at Theo. He’s watching me with this soft expression, like he can’t quite believe we’re here, like this morning is something precious he wants to hold onto.
And I don’t remember the last time I felt this whole.
CHAPTER 15
Theo
The rest stop off I-5 is familiar territory, neutral ground between Dark River and Seattle where Victoria and I have been doing custody handoffs for years now. I pull into a parking spot and cut the engine, glancing back at Chloe in the rearview mirror. She’s got her face pressed to the window, breath fogging up the glass, scanning the parking lot for the sight of her mom’s silver Audi.
I smile, watching her. She has her new favorite book clutched to her chest, the one we picked up from the library yesterday. It’s filled with pages on octopuses—colorful photographs and fun facts and diagrams of their anatomy—and she hasn’t stopped talking about it since we checked it out.
Apparently octopuses have three hearts and blue blood, can change colors in milliseconds, and are smart enough to unscrew jars from the inside. I’ve heard these facts approximately forty-seven times in the past twenty-four hours, and I’m not even a little bit tired of it.
I spot Victoria’s Audi pulling into the lot and Chloe bounces in her seat, the seatbelt straining against her small frame.
“Yay! Mommy’s here!” She’s already fumbling with the buckle, trying to free herself before Victoria even finishes parking. “Daddy, can you help me? It’s stuck!”
“Hold on, hold on.” I laugh, getting out and walking around to her side. I pull open the door and help her with the seatbelt, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. The thing weighs about thirty pounds because she insisted on packing half her stuffed animal collection, plus her colored pencils, plus the stack of drawings she made this week that she wants to show her mom. I tried to talk her down to a more reasonable amount, but she gave me those big brown eyes and I caved immediately.
Victoria steps out of her car wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater, her long brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. The Pacific Northwest air is crisp and cool, early afternoon sunlight filtering through the clouds, and she shields her eyes with one hand as she spots us across the parking lot. Her face breaks into a wide smile when she sees Chloe.
Chloe takes off running, her little legs pumping, the octopus book still clutched tight against her chest.
“Chloe!” Victoria drops down, arms open wide, and catches her in a hug. “Oh, I missed you so much, my love. So so much.”
“Mommy, I missed you too!” Chloe’s voice is muffled against Victoria’s shoulder. She pulls back just enough to shove the book toward her mom’s face. “And I brought so much stuff to show you! Look, look, this is my new book from the library!”
Victoria’s eyes go wide with exaggerated amazement, giving Chloe her full attention. “Oooh, that sounds so cool, baby. I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it. We can read it together tonight before bed, okay? You can teach me everything.”
“Okay!” Chloe beams.
I hang back and watch them, Chloe’s heavy backpack digging into my shoulder. This is the part that always gets me. Victoria can be flaky, but when she is actuallywithChloe, when she’s present and focused and not distracted bywhatever her husband needs, she’s a great mom. Attentive. Fun. Genuinely interested in whatever Chloe wants to share, no matter how small or silly. It’s the in-between that’s the problem. The times when Chloe isn’t right in front of her. Those are the times Victoria seems to forget she has a daughter at all.
I’ve made peace with it, mostly. We have a custody arrangement that works, lawyers who helped us figure out the details, a co-parenting relationship that’s civil and functional if not exactly warm. I don’t hate Victoria. I don’t even dislike her. I just wish she was more consistent, for Chloe’s sake.
Victoria looks up at me over Chloe’s head, still crouched on the ground with her arms around our daughter. “Hey, Theo. It’s nice to see you.”
“Hey.” I walk over, giving her a small wave. “Good to see you too. She’s been excited about this all week.”
“Me too.” Victoria stands, brushing off her jeans, and her smile is genuine. It took us a while to get here—the first year after the divorce was tense and awkward—but we’ve found our footing. “I’ve been missing this one way too much.” She looks down at Chloe and tickles her side. “The house is too quiet without you, you know that?”
“Mommy, stop!” Chloe giggles, squirming away. “That tickles!”
Victoria relents and I hold out the backpack. She takes it and immediately her arm dips with the weight.
“Chloe, honey.” She adjusts the strap, eyebrows raised. “What is in here? Did you pack rocks?”
“No, stuffed animals,” Chloe says, like this should be obvious. “And my drawings. And my special blanket. And snacks.”
“Snacks?” Victoria raises an eyebrow. “You snuck snacks in there?”
“Just in case,” she says, completely serious.
Victoria catches my eye and we share a look, the kind of look that only parents who have negotiated packing lists with aseven-year-old can really understand. Some things transcend divorce.
