He smirks, but it looks sad. “Luka’s school has an orientation parent breakfast Friday morning. Thought you’d wanna make it. That’s when they show him around, and he gets to meet his new teachers and all that shit. And…”
Fucker.
I blink, caught off guard. “You scheduled this around that?”
His smirk deepens. “I didn’t say I was heartless. Just mean.”
I’m already turning, my mind whirring. I can do this. Purpose. Rage—harnessed. I exit the ops room and move toward my office, my mind on Ruthie and Luka. Rafail’s on the phone, calling a meeting. So I take a second to tap out a quick message to her.
Don’t let him eat all the whipped cream, he gets a tummy ache.
Ruthie
Did you just say… tummy ache?
Seconds later,my screen lights up with a photo—Luka at the kitchen table, his bedhead wild, cheeks puffed out, whipped cream on his nose, his cheeks, and his chin, grinning like he didn’t cry himself to sleep the night before. I can’t help the smile that twitches at the corner of my mouth.
No juice yet, right?
Ruthie
What do you think, I’m new at this?
Fucking brat.
Ruthie
He said please. I bribed him with extra whipped cream and I regret nothing.
I have a quiet laugh. My thumb hovers over the screen longer than it should. What am I doing? I tap out a message before I can regret it.
He’s lucky you’re there. I mean it.
The typing bubbles appear. Disappear. Appear again. Like I’ve set her off-kilter. She’s always quick with a response.
So I send another one.
I have shit to do. I’ll be homelate.
Ruthie
Oh no. Missing thrilling morning debates about cartoons and existential dread over coffee?
I groan.
You let him watch that stupid blue dog cartoon again, didn’t you?
Ruthie
Don’t come for me. That stupid fucking blue dog is holding this family together, Vadka.
I stare at the word longer than I should. Family. It shouldn’t fit, but it does—too fucking well. Maybe that’s the worst of it because when I close my eyes, I can still see her in my kitchen—barefoot, hair twisted up like a storm cloud, leaning over Luka with that half smile like the world isn’t ending around us, and her heart isn’t broken into pieces like mine.
Standing where she used to stand, where she used to sway her hips and hum when she made her coffee. Ruthie sings off-key. Mariah had the voice of an angel. It’s… different.
And I miss her.
I miss her so fucking much.