LOGINMia's POV"These are—" I open the box, and the cardboard edges are soft from years of handling, the corners worn down to a lighter brown. "These are things.""Things?""Moments." I lift the lid slowly, and inside there's chaos—photos stacked unevenly, some face-up, some face-down, ticket stubs from the aquarium, a dried flower from Madison's first school play pressed between two pictures, a tiny hospital bracelet. "Weird moments. Things that happened that I took pictures of because they were—" I search for the word, my fingers hovering over the pile. "Because they were them."I pull out the first photo, and I have to smile before I even hand it over. The edges are slightly sticky from where Alexander once got peanut butter on it."That's Alexander at two and a half." I pass it to Kyle. "He decided he was a dog."The photo shows Alexander on all fours on our old kitchen floor—the one with the yellow linoleum that came with the apartment. He's face-first in Gas's metal bowl, his cheeks
Mia's POVI sigh.Kyle is still standing there. Six feet away in the flickering alley light. His jacket around my shoulders. The fabric still warm from his body."Come upstairs," I say.He blinks. "What?""Come upstairs. See the kids. Then go home." I pull the jacket tighter. "I'm too tired to do this dance in an alley at eleven at night.""Mia—""I'm not asking you to stay. I'm just—" I stop. Start again. "They'll want to know you were here. Alexander will ask tomorrow if you came by. He always asks."Kyle's throat works. "Okay."We go back inside. The stairwell smells like someone's cooking—garlic and something fried. The fluorescent lights buzz. One flickers on the third floor landing.My keys jangle when I unlock the door. Too loud in the quiet hallway.Gas lifts her head when we come in. Sees Kyle. Her tail thumps once against the floor. Then she settles back down.The apartment is dim. Just the small lamp in the living room. The one I always leave on. The shade is crooked. Has b
Mia's POV"Alexander." My voice is sharper now. "What have I told you about watching grown-up shows?""I don't watch grown-up shows!""Then where did you learn about ex-boyfriends and current boyfriends and awkward social dynamics?""I don't know! From existing! From having ears! From Mrs. Rodriguez and also from the elevator—""Alexander!" I'm trying not to smile but also genuinely alarmed. "You're five. You shouldn't know these things.""Well I do know them! And I'm just trying to help you not be awkward!""Okay!" I stand up. "That's enought. And you..." I point at him. "Less eavesdropping. Less elevator gossip. Less... less learning about adult relationships from our seventy-year-old neighbor.""She's sixty-eight," he mumbles."Alexander.""Okay, okay. Sorry." But he doesn't look sorry. He looks pleased with himself for knowing things, for being observant, for understanding the world in ways that make me both proud and
Mia's POVAlexander shoots up in bed like someone electrocuted him. "REALLY? A REAL HOUSE? That you BUILT?""Shh, inside voice. And yes.""A CASTLE!" Alexander shouts. "Is it a CASTLE? I want a castle!""Not a castle. A house. With bedrooms and bathrooms and—""And a SECRET ROOM!" His eyes are huge now, all traces of sleepiness gone. "Can there be a secret room? PLEASE? With a bookshelf door that swings open?""That's structurally complicated," Ethan says, but he's sitting up now too, interested despite himself. "The weight distribution of a bookshelf door would require significant reinforcement and—""I don't care about weight distribution! I want a SECRET ROOM!""But if we move..." Alexander's face falls suddenly, dramatically, like he's just remembered something terrible. "If we move, we'd have to say goodbye to everyone here.""Yes," I say gently. "That's one of the things to think about. You'd have to say goodbye to the kids you play with in the building. To Mrs. Rodriguez next d
Mia's POVThe apartment is quiet when we get home.I unlock the door and Gas pushes past me first, her nails clicking on the hardwood in that urgent rhythm that means she's been holding it together all day and now she can finally relax. She heads straight for her water bowl and laps at it like she's been crossing a desert, water splashing onto the mat beneath."Shoes off," I remind the children.Alexander is already kicking his off before the words are fully out of my mouth. They go flying—one hits the wall with a soft thud, the other lands somewhere near the couch—and he looks at me with that expression that's half innocent, half testing to see if I'll call him on it."Alexander.""What?""Pick them up. Put them in the basket."He sighs with his entire body, head dropping back, arms going limp at his sides, that dramatic five-year-old sigh that suggests I've asked him to climb Mount Everest in his socks, but he does it, shuffling over to retrieve both shoes and dropping them in the ba
Mia's POVHugo walks away.I stand there. Watching leaves skitter across the pavement.Then someone bursts out of the restaurant door.Scarlett.She's moving fast. Too fast for someone who can barely walk straight.Morton is right behind her. "Scarlett—""LEAVE ME ALONE.""You can't drive like this.""Watch me.""You're drunk.""I'm TIPSY. There's a difference.""You had seven glasses—""SIX. I counted. Or—" She stops. Squints. "—or maybe it was seven. The point is I'm FINE."She's not fine. She's wobbling.Morton catches her elbow. "Let me drive you home.""No.""Scarlett—""I said NO." She yanks away. Too hard. Loses her balance.Morton catches her. Steadies her. His arms around her waist.For a moment they just stand there. Frozen. His arms around her. Her hands gripping his forearms.Then she pushes him away. Hard."Don't touch me.""







