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“What do I say?”

I close my eyes.

My eighteen-year-old daughter is asking me how to meet her mother.

There is no training for this.

“No idea.”

“That isn't helpful.”

“I've been your father for less than twenty-four hours. I'm still learning.”

Taylor laughs.

I glare at him.

Sage hears it.

“Is that Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him I heard that.”

Taylor leans toward the phone.

“Your father needs work.”

“Agreed.”

I pull the phone away.

“Everybody's funny today.”

Will comes back on.

“We'll stay put.”

“Keep her inside.”

“I've got her.”

I end the call.

Taylor looks at me.

“She’s going to be okay.”

“Which one?”

He doesn't answer.

Because he knows.

Both.

I look back at the van.