Emma recoiled. “A sip? Mom, he drank out of the bite valve. The actual valve. His mouth was on it.”
This seemed like a non-issue. I had no interest in getting involved.
“I was thirsty.” Keith shrugged like this was all extremely reasonable.
“You backwashed into it!”
“No, I specifically remember sucking.” Keith’s eyebrows shot up, delighted.
Out of all the kids, he was the most like Scott, in both mannerisms and looks. Funny, charming, and laidback. Unfortunately, he’d also picked up a handful of Scott’s old bad habits, such as an addiction to weed and a tendency to hover on the wrong side of the rules. But with his eighteenth birthday quickly approaching and him nearly getting expelled from school, Keith had gotten a little tough love from Scott and now seemed to be turning things around. From what little I’d managed to drag out of him, he’d even met a nice, normal girl. Emma insisted it wasn’t serious. Said she was a nerd; his lab partner, and he was probably just using her to help him pass the class.
I was okay with that.
“Ugh.” Emma flared. “I probably have a disease now.”
Keith held back a laugh. “Statistically speaking, yeah. Probably.”
Jake looked up from his assignment. “I mean, that’s literally how we all got pinkeye that one time. Keith farted into the pillow, and none of us were spared.”
“Jake,” I warned, snapping my fingers and pointing at his paper. “Back to your Kyle compliments or I’ll reset the timer.”
“This isn’t a joke.” Emma slammed the bottle on the counter. “I can’t use it anymore, Mom.”
Sure she could, but at sixteen, Emma was all drama. After her tutu-twos, she’d grown into a lovely, easygoing little girl. A rule-follower, Emma adored her mommy and the piano above all else. We were inseparable, sneaking off for girl afternoons whenever we could. But then came puberty and breasts and boys, and suddenly Emma’s moods required protective gear.
Keith shoveled another mountainous spoonful of cereal into his mouth and spoke through it. “Honestly, Emma, I’m flattered you think my spit is that powerful.”
Emma went after him. I stepped between at the last second, sparing my oldest a water bottle to the head.
“Okay. I thought you two were old enough to work it out.” I maneuvered Emma to the table. “My mistake. Sit. Now.”
“That’s stupid,” she said. “I’m not doing it.”
“Actually, you are. I’m out of patience and fully prepared to ruin someone’s day. Would you like it to be yours?”
Emma leveled her gaze and decided I wasn’t bluffing. She slammed into a chair, arms crossed in front of her.
“You too,” I said to Keith.
“Me?” He took his seat without protest, mumbling, “I just wanted water.”
I repeated the rules and reset the timer, shooting a look toward Kyle and Jake to warn them against complaining. “You have five minutes. Impress me.”
And then, for the first time all morning, there was silence. No fighting. No crying. No cereal slurping or contaminated bottles. A rare moment of triumph. I wanted to call someone and share, but Scott and the kids were my only real social circle. I’d tried to make friends over the years, but it never came naturally. Something in me always felt… off. Like I was that awkward dog at the park wandering in slow circles—tail wagging, trying to look approachable—secretly hoping someone else would make the first move.
Maybe it was the way I’d grown up: polished and proper, always performing. The Carver rules had followed me long after the money didn’t. I wasn’t rich enough to fit in with the well-off moms, but I still carried myself like I’d come from that world. I couldn’t help it. Upper-class poor. A weird in-between that left people unsure where to place me.
No, it was fine. I was fine. I didn’t need friends. Or work colleagues who liked me. All I needed was Scott and our kids. I leaned against the counter, my now-cold coffee cupped in my hands, and smiled, watching them all struggle to find something nice to say about each other.
These were my babies. Four more than I ever thought I’d have. Scott and I had built a life to be proud of. It wasn’t always easy, and we’d struggled plenty. The broke years. The sleepless nights. The bad decision and good intentions. But it was sheer stubborn love that kept pulling us forward. And these six kids in front of me were our greatest gifts.
The timer beeped.
“All right,” I said, pushing off the counter and joining them at the table. “Pencils down.”
Grace immediately climbed into my lap, holding her drawing so close to my face I went cross-eyed. “Me first! I did three!”
“Okay, let’s hear them.”
