“Yes, baby, it’s me,” I said, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “I’m right here. You can open the door.”

“Is Dad with you?” Nolan asked.

The fear in his eight-year-old voice tore through me.

“No, Nolan,” I said clearly. “Your dad is not here. He’s not coming here. The judge said you get to stay with me. Forever.”

A long silence followed.

I looked at Mrs. Latham, who was holding her breath.

“Are you sure?” Nolan asked, his voice closer to the door now.

“I am completely sure, sweetie,” I said. “We got the papers. We’re going to keep our apartment. And you’re going to astronomy camp this summer.”

I heard the small metallic click of a key turning in the lock.

Then, the heavy brass deadbolt slid back with a loud thud.

The door creaked open a few inches.

Nolan’s small face appeared in the gap, his eyes wide and dark behind his plastic-rimmed glasses.

He was wearing his school uniform pants, but underneath his school sweater, I could see the collar of the faded blue shirt.

He had insisted on wearing it today for luck.