“We’re going to the library in Brookline this Saturday,” he said. “They have a children’s reading hour. Would you want to come with us?”

My heart did a slow, heavy thud against my ribs.

The old fear of getting hurt, of opening myself up to another family only to be rejected again, flared up.

But then I pictured Chloe’s bright eyes and Daniel’s steady gaze.

“I would like that,” I said softly.

We said our goodbyes, and I watched them walk toward their car.

I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders and turned toward the subway entrance.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out, expecting another message from James, or perhaps a confirmation from my shift leader at the hospital.

Instead, a different name flashed on the screen.

It was a number I had not seen in over a year, but one I knew by heart.

Mark.

My hands started to shake again as the text message preview loaded.

The words on the screen were brief, written with the same cold efficiency Mark had used during our divorce.