This woman is stunning, and I have forgotten entirely why I called.
“Hi,” I say, smiling like an idiot.
“Sawyer.” She tilts her head. “You FaceTimed me for a reason. Texting wasn’t enough?”
“I wanted you to see the suit I’m going to wear.”
“You’re actually ridiculous.” She bursts out laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Humor me,” I say, turning the phone toward my closet. “I have two navy blues. This one…or this one.”
She squints thoughtfully. “That one.”
I tug it out. “Ah. The Armani.”
She shrugs. “What can I tell you? Despite my past experiences and terrible history with men, I have excellent taste.”
“I’m honored.”
We’re both smiling now, easy and flirty and warm in a way that feels dangerously like something real.
A sudden bang hits her door.
“Mom!” Theo’s voice explodes through the apartment. “I’m back!”
He barrels into view, still wearing his jacket, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with excitement. “We went to this sports bar and Dad let me try his seasoned curly fries. They were amazing and—oh my gosh! Hi, Sawyer!”
He waves at the screen like I’m a cartoon.
“Hey, buddy,” I say.
“I’m ready for tomorrow,” he announces proudly. “I’m going to wear my new hoodie you got me. Dad was going to buy me one, but I told him you’d already given me one.”
Juliette’s smile flickers. Just a hair.
Then Theo turns back to her. “Oh, Mom—Dad said he’ll call you tomorrow morning to get the information for the game. Bye, Sawyer.”
Theo grins and disappears down the hallway, already narrating his night to his bedroom walls.
Juliette stays very still, but I see it. The tension. The crack. The thing she doesn’t say, but it’s right on the tip of her tongue. She looks back at the screen, at me, and I feel it through the phone—the shift, the weight, the thing she’s holding in so tightly it’s starting to bruise.
“Hey,” I say quietly, “you’ve got the space here to talk about whatever that is.”
She exhales, tipping her head back toward the ceiling like she’s searching for patience somewhere up there.
“He does this, Sawyer,” she says. “He comes in. Things look good for a minute. For two or three days, he’s around. Theo gets excited. And then he goes.”
Her eyes come back to me, shiny but steady.
“And then I get to explain. Well…” She laughs, hollow. “I say explain, but what I’ll do is make up a story. I lie to my son about why his dad left, because I can’t tell him that his father shows up when it’s convenient and disappears when it’s not.”
I stay still, listening.
“Being married to a narcissist teaches you how to mask things,” she continues. “How to smooth the edges. The most important thing to me is protecting Theo until he’s old enough to decide for himself what kind of relationship he wants with his dad.”
“I really commend you,” I say. “For all of it. He seems like a good guy?”
“Yeah, he does. He can be, but…my mom put it perfectly: some men are just not meant to ever get married nor to ever be a father. David is an absolutely perfect example of that kind of man.” She gives me a tired smile. “You can remind me of that next week when you’re in the store and he doesn’t show up for this breakfast.”
