LISA

After breakfast and the rest of our morning routine, I wrangle Lauren into the car and drive to Mom's. When I arrive, the front door is locked, so I ring the doorbell. A middle-aged woman in purple scrubs answers.

I shake her hand. "Hi, I'm Lisa, Chittip's daughter."

She smiles. "I figured. Your visit was all she could talk about since you called. I'm Gail, her home care nurse. It's nice to meet you. And who is this cutie pie?" She gazes down at Lauren, who's clinging to my leg.

"This is my daughter. Lauren, say hi."

Lauren does no such thing. She just gazes up at the woman with an uncertain look.

Gail takes us to the living room, where Mom is sitting in her recliner, her lap covered with a knitted throw blanket. My heart constricts. Her face looks so pale and drawn, and her hands resting atop the blanket are so thin, and more age-spotted than I've ever seen them.

Lauren without any understanding of Mom's health concerns runs over and excitedly climbs onto her lap. "Gamma! Gamma!"

Mom hugs her and peppers her face with kisses, prompting much excited squealing from my little girl. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you both."

I kneel to squeeze her tightly, disturbed by how diminished and frail she feels in my arms. I already knew what was happening, but now that I'm seeing her in person, the reality that she's dying hits me all over again, followed by the guilt and fear.

Six months—more like five by now. We have so few moments left together. How could I have stayed away so long? I spent my twenties building my business from the ground up, pouring all my time and devotion into it, and living the high life in New York City in a penthouse that overlooked central park. And now my business is a success, raking in millions a year, but you know what, I'd give it all up if I could go back in time and have my mom healthy again. I'd give up everything.

"I know," she says quietly into my shoulder. "But it'll be all right, sweet pea. I've lived a good, long life. I'm ready for whatever the universe has in store for me."

I'm not ready. I don't know how I could ever be. But I release her anyway and try and force a smile on my face. She doesn't need to see me frowning. "How are you feeling today?"

"Mmm . . . not the best, but well enough. Do you want anything? Some sweet tea? Gail just helped me bake some pecan snowballs yesterday."

Lauren snaps to attention. "Cookie?"

Mom smiles at her granddaughter and her whole face lights up. "You got it, little one. Off my lap first, though."

Lauren hops down, and Mom starts to pull the blanket aside.

"Stay there, Mom, I can get it," I say, squeezing her hand gently.

"Nonsense. You're a guest. And exercise is good for me, right, Gail?"

Gail hesitates for a second, then replies, "A little, yes." She and I hold out our hands for Mom to grab.

With our help, Mom succeeds in pushing herself to her feet, slightly but noticeably short of breath, and starts off for the kitchen. Lauren runs ahead of her with Flapflap dragging on the floor while Gail and I stay at her side. Gail takes down plates and cups, Mom distributes the cookies, and I handle the heavy jug of tea for her.

When we're all back in the living room and seated with our snack, Mom asks Lauren, "Is that your friend?"

Lauren pauses from inhaling her cookie to hold up Flapflap toward Mom and shouts, "Bats eat bugs!" before erupting in giggles.

"That's absolutely right. You know a lot about nature." Mom looks back to me. "Oh, I almost forgot—would Lauren like your old toys? They're sort of a boy kind toy, but I thought I'd ask."

She still has those? "I'm sure she'd love them. She doesn't seem to be into baby dolls and girly things. Before Flapflap, her favorite toy was an airplane."

Mom nods in Gail's direction who then disappears down the hall before reappearing with a large cardboard box. Lauren gasps in delight and digs into the treasure trove, emerging with a G.I. Joe, which she mashes against Flapflap.

We watch her play for a few minutes before Mom asks, "So, have you thought about what I said last time we talked?"

"Which part?"

"Who's going to watch Lauren for you, Lisa." She gestures to where Lauren is babbling and giggling as she dances the G.I. Joe across the floor.

I frown. Although I know it's just because my mom's old-fashioned, I can't help being a little offended at the implication that my parenting is inadequate and I won't be enough for my daughter. "So you think i dont know how to raisey child? Or is it because she likes bats and planes and action figures more than dolls?"

"You know what I mean. Her being a tomboy is fine, but you still need help."

"I'm working on it, Mom."

Although Jennie hasn't returned my call yet. All day I've found myself obsessing over whether I should leave her another one or text Hanbin or something,

I mentally kick myself again. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. Calm down and stop acting like a damn lovesick teenager.

Look at me, a grown-ass ready to make a fool of herself over someone who isn't even a romantic option. I need to remind myself that this is the same as hiring any other contractor or employee. Something I've done a thousand times before. I should be able to handle this in my sleep and I shouldn't be allowing it to consume my thoughts the way it is.

But Jennie isn't just another contractor, and I've got the stomach gymnastics to prove it. Even after all this time, my heart still quickens when I think about her.

Mom perks up. "Does that mean you've started dating again?"

I hold back an exasperated groan. "No, Mom, I'm hiring a nanny. I don't have the room in my life for a girlfrie—"

Lauren pushes Flapflap and G.I. Joe into my knee. "Look. They're best friends."

Case in point. "Very cool, honey," I reply, smiling down at my daughter.

"Are you sure?" Mom asks. "Life is short. You're already thirty. You should really think about your future."

I grimace. "Even if I had the time and energy, it would make me a real . . ." I glance at Lauren, who has put the G.I. Joe on Flapflap's back and is wiping them around the floor while making engine noises. "A real heel if I treated dating as a way to find free childcare services. A lot of women don't want to sign up for that stuff by dating a single parent, and I can't blame them for being up front about it."

Mom sighs, looking even more tired. "A lot doesn't mean all. You'll never know who's out there if you don't look."

Drop it, Mom. "Maybe, but there's no way I'm getting into all that right now. It's easier to approach this as a business transaction between professionals."

My inappropriate inner voice whispers, Not that you'd complain if things got a little unprofessional between you and Jennie, but I quash it. There's too much history between us, and the fact that I haven't gotten laid in forever is highlighting the good parts while glossing over how it all ended.

Mom sighs. "All right, all right. I know when my advice isn't wanted. I just worry sometimes, sweet pea. You and Lauren are the only chicks in my nest."

I smile at her. "I know, Mom. We love you too." Even if she drives me nuts sometimes.

Her answering smile turns into a huge yawn. "Whew . . . I'm so tired all of a sudden."

"Go ahead and have a nap," I say. "I'll make Lauren some lunch, and we'll come back later."

"There's a nice park a few minutes from here," Mom says, her eyes already drifting shut.

I gesture for Gail to follow us into the kitchen. As I assemble a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Lauren—my appetite has quickly disappeared—I ask Gail quietly, "How is she, really?"

She presses her lips together. "Well . . . let me put it this way. Today is one of her better-than-average days." She hastens to add, "But not by much. And compared to other patients at this stage, she's doing excellently. She doesn't need oxygen, and her pain and nausea are being managed very well."

I let out a deep sigh as I hand Lauren her plate. "I guess that's all we can really hope for."

Gail rests her hand on my shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. But having her family around is already doing her so much good."

"Thank you," I reply, not knowing what else to say.

She leaves to go watch over Mom. While Lauren eats, I pull out my phone to find the park Mom was talking about.

• • •

"Higher Dada!" Lauren yells between giggles.

I give her another push on the swing, making her kick her feet at the deep blue sky and shriek with excitement. Mom was right—this park is nice. Its playground is huge, clean, and features enough equipment to tire out even my little ball of energy.

There are other kids around for her to play with, but not so many that it's too crowded. Nearby, a group of people are doing Pilates on the grass, and every so often, a jogger or dog walker goes by. I can easily imagine us picnicking under the towering oak trees this summer, crunching through autumn leaves and sledding down the gently rolling hills in winter.

Well, maybe not so much that last one. I chuckle to myself. Gotta remember we're much farther south now.

After a few more minutes on the swings, Lauren finally demands, "Done now. Upsies."

I lift her out of the seat and set her down. She toddles off to the sandbox to begin digging a hole with laser focus.

I sit down on the nearest bench and enjoy the sun, letting my eyes close for a moment. That is, until I hear a voice that itches at my brain with a familiarity I'd never forget.

The woman who's just passed us with an exercise mat rolled up under her arm doesn't just sound achingly familiar, she looks it too. The dark blond hair from my memories and the body from my dreams. She's almost the spitting image of . . .

I jump to my feet. "Jennie?"

She freezes, then slowly turns around.

I'm not just imagining this. It is her.

And holy shit, little Jen's all grown up.