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Zoe's on the floor with her legs folded, holding a rattle just out of Graham's reach and narrating it to him like he's taking notes. "This is the blue one. You can't have it yet because you're a baby. When you're bigger, you can have it."

Sadie looks at me over the top of Hildie's head. She's been here an hour, and she's finally getting to it.

"Look at you. You're killing this. Those two are lucky to have you, Mama."

"We're white-knuckling it, but we're alive."

She glances at the refrigerator, where my mother's handwriting maps out feed times and my work hours in three colors. "You have a whiteboard and a job and two babies who are fat. I'd say you're killing it."

I could deflect again. With anyone else I would. Sadie was a young, single mom. She had to figure it all out alone. She isn't handing me a pamphlet.

"I wouldn't be anywhere near this without you, Sadie. Half the stuff you told me before the babies came is the only reason I knew what to do."

“You’re a survivor." She smooths Hildie's back. “You would have figured it out. I’m glad I could help, though.”

Dorothy starts as the nanny in February when Mom goes home. Until then, the whiteboard holds. I went back into the building at the end of October, partial days first, and now it's five full ones. Before that, I worked from this table. I don't anymore.

"How's he doing with the schedule?" Sadie asks, easy, no weight on it. "Do you dread the calls?"

"No. That's the strange part."

Tuesdays and Saturdays at six, I hold the phone myself for the video calls. Mom ran them in September and October, and one night I decided hiding behind her was something a child would do.

The calls are civil and short and fine. My kids have a father who shows up on a screen and means it, and I'm not going to poison that because he and I didn't work.

Sadie doesn't nudge me toward him. She shifts the baby and asks about Dorothy's references instead, and I love her for it.

She's gone before dark. I go back in for the call I don't dread.

Monday the ninth, in the middle of a rebranding meeting, my phone lights on the table.

In NC Tuesday to look at some ground. Would like to see Graham and Hildie if it works. I'll fit around you.

I read it three more times before the meeting ends.

Tuesday afternoon is fine. Let's say any time between 2 and 4.

Yes ma'am. Thank you.

Tuesday, I go to work like nothing about the day is different.

I check my watch and see it's 2:40. I know he's probably in my living room by now. Maybe Graham is pulling at his shirt, or Hildie's asleep against his chest. I catch myself staring at the clock on my monitor and open the email in front of me for the second time.

I answer it and approve the fall statement copy. Then I start another.

At four, Trina leans into my doorway.

"You're good to go if you need to."

My hand stops on the mouse. I see it's only four. I don't want to get home too soon and catch him there.

“I'll finish some things up, first.”

She hesitates, then leaves. I stay for the meeting.

Afterward, I sit in the parking lot with my keys in my hand and don't start the car.

I get home just after five. There's no foreign car or truck in the driveway, which is for the best. It's not that I can't see him. I'd just prefer we keep it clean. We're finally in our groove, so there's no need to complicate things.