Normal voice.
Like they were discussing the weather.
I wanted to walk into that kitchen and tear the whole afternoon apart.
But Ethan didn’t know.
The kids were 20 feet away.
And unless something changed, I would be sitting across from Cecilia at birthdays and holidays for years.
Screaming lasts four minutes and costs you everything.
But I wasn’t swallowing it either.
Milo was my son.
Alice was my daughter.
I had never once divided them.
So I put the paper plates down, walked into the kitchen, and smiled at Cecilia.
“Would you like some tea?”
She blinked at me.
My mother looked worried.
I filled the kettle anyway.
Then I pointed at the table.
But that was only the beginning.
“Sit down.”
Cecilia sat.
I put a mug in front of her and took the chair opposite.
“I want to make sure I understood you,” I said. “You don’t consider Milo your grandson?”
