Page 72 of The Fix-Up

He dipped his head closer, his voice low and quiet. “You’re a great mom. Anyone can see that.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest, but I kept my eyes on the kitten, almost embarrassed to look at him.

Slowly, he raised his hand and brushed my cheek with a featherlight touch. His fingers left a trail of warmth behind. I wanted him to do it again. “You had something on your cheek.”

I swallowed and looked at him. “Thanks.”

His eyes moved between my eyes before dropping to my mouth. My heart flipped over in my chest. If either of us moved a couple of inches, what would happen? Would he kis?—

“Do they have names?” Oliver asked. Both of us sprang apart.

I’d completely forgotten about my own child for a minute there. What had I been thinking? Was I so starved of affectionthat I took a compliment and an innocent touch and blew it out of proportion?

Gil cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t. Everyone knows if you name a stray, they’re yours forever.”

Oliver sat up and set the kitten in his lap. “Mom. Mom. Mom.Pleasecan we keep them? I’ll help take care of them and everything.”

I sighed. Did I really need more things to keep alive and fed and happy? No. But how could I deny the kid? “Well, I guess we should start thinking about names.”

TWENTY-NINE

[Love is…] Mommy playing with me and giving me hugs.

—NATHAN, AGE 6

From the group text chat of the Sterns sisters:

MILLIE: Why did you send us a photo of kittens?

ELLIE: We found them in the backyard.

AGGIE: They’re so cute.

BETSY: Are you keeping them?

ELLIE: Yep. Oliver is very attached already.

MILLIE: Yay! Do they have names?

ELLIE: I’m letting Oliver name them. Right now, his top choices are Peach Love and Apple Heart.

BETSY: Is it me or do those sound like stripper names?

March rolled into April and brought gorgeous weather, topping out in the eighties but not quite humid enough to feellike I was melting when I stepped outside. After dinner, I’d hoped to bribe Oliver with ice cream if he’d drag himself to the outlet mall with me so I could pick up a birthday present for one of my sisters.

There was just one teeny-tiny problem. My purse was missing. I’d spent the last fifteen minutes opening every cabinet in the kitchen, looking under the kitchen table and in the tub of shoes in the living room, even the bathroom. (It had happened once; don’t judge.)

I did find one sock (under the coffee table), one of the four pairs of spare car keys I kept hidden (in the kitchen junk drawer), a forgotten bag of Halloween candy (chocolate was still good after five months, right?).

“Where are they?” I muttered then yelled, “Oliver? Gil? Anyone seen my purse?”

No one answered. As I passed through the living room to find them, I caught motion in the front driveway. Looking out the window, I could see Oliver standing next to my car, which had been moved out from under the carport. Obviously not by him…I hoped. The hood stood open, but Oliver was looking down at the pair of jean-clad legs sticking out from under the car.

I pulled open the front door and stepped out. “Um, what’s going on here?”

“Mommy!” Oliver ran to me and pushed me back toward the house. “You aren’t supposed to see yet. It’s a surprise.”

“For me?”

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