“Good plan, sweetheart,” I said. “Good plan.”
At five p.m., Kevin came to pick them up.
The kids hugged me goodbye and ran down the walkway to the car, waving as they climbed in.
Kevin stood on my porch for a moment.
“Mom, can I—” he started.
“No,” I said gently. “Whatever you want to say, the answer is no. We have an arrangement. It’s working. Let’s not complicate it.”
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said. “For seeing them. For still being part of their lives.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” I said.
“I know,” he replied. “But still. Thank you.”
I nodded and closed the door.
I watched through the window as he got into the car and drove away.
Last week, I saw Jessica for the first time since the airport.
I was in the produce section of a grocery store in the city—a big chain store with bright fluorescent lights and a display of Honeycrisp apples near the entrance—picking out avocados.