“What’s this about?” I ask, my voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
He pulls back, giving me a small, stiff smile. “You don’t have to pick me up anymore, Mama. I can ask Easton.”
Easton is his best friend who recently got his provisional license. I’m not comfortable with Easton driving another minor yet, but I don’t say that.
Instead, I touch Finn’s cheek. “You’ll have your license soon, and then you can drive yourself to school.”
I’m not ready for that either.
We live in Roland Park. It’s picture-perfect from the outside—tree-lined streets, porch lights glowing warm in the early evening—but inside, everyone, I think, is just trying to hold their lives together in different ways.
The high school is barely a ten-minute drive—close enough that Finn often walks when the weather’s nice. Mikaela’s school is closer still, nestled behind stone walls and ivy-covered gates. I usually drop her off on my way to Finn’s school—but she gets out early, so I come home early and walk back home with her. It’s only an eight-minute walk, but that time is precious because she talks a mile a minute, telling me everything that happened at school.
Finn’s soccer practice is farther away, and in January, when it’s colder than a witch’s tit, there’s no way Finn can walk the thirty minutes. No way I’d let him.
“It’s fine, baby. You don’t have?—”
“You had to rush out of work today, Mom,” he cuts me off, his face tight with disapproval. I know it’s not for me. It’s for his father.
He’s right; I did have to rush out of work when Finn called to let me know his father never came to pick him up and didn’t answer any of his texts or calls.
I’m an office manager at Cole & Associates, a mid-size law firm downtown that handles corporate litigation and white-collar defense. We’re buried under discovery for a massive pharmaceutical case right now, so it’s all hands on deck.
I started there years ago as a paralegal after dropping out of law school. Rhys was in his second year of med school then, and somebody had to keep the lights on. One brief at a time, I worked my way up, traded my bar dreams for a steady paycheck, and somewhere along the line, I got good at it.
I’m proud of the work I do. I love my colleagues. I grew up there in so many ways. The firm took care of me through pregnancies, maternity leaves, sick children, and so much more.
The firm’s now run by Daniel Cole, the founder’s son.
I started under his father, Martin, a sharp, old-school attorney with a soft spot for underdogs. When Martin retired, Daniel took over—brighter, younger, and with just enough of his father’s charm to make you want to follow his lead.
I watched Daniel grow up.
I’d just had Finn when he started high school. Back then, he was all long limbs and teenage swagger, tagging along after his dad on office visits. Now he’s in his thirties—confident, steady, wearing the same sharp smile he had as a teen, only without the awkwardness. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I still catch a glimpseof that boy…but more and more, I see the man he’s become.
“It’s fine, Finn,” I repeat.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble at work,” he insists.
I kiss his forehead. “Daniel’s not like that, Finn. You know that.”
Like I saw Daniel grow up, he’s seen my kids grow up.
“I know.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them. He has his father’s eyes. His father’s handsome face. “I just don’t want you waiting around forhimanymore.”
My chest tightens. As a rule, Inevercomplain about Rhys to my children. Never badmouth him.
“Finn, your father has a critical job. He’s saving?—”
“Lives,” he speaks over me. “Yeah, I know, Mom. You’re also doing important work. Just because he’s a surgeon doesn’t make your work any less.”
My throat burns, but I manage a smile. “I love you, Finn, but this is above your pay grade, okay?” I try for levity. “Now, go do your homework and make sure Mikaela does hers. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah, Mom, I can.”
He gives me one more quick hug, a kiss on my cheek, and disappears upstairs.
The house settles into silence.
