JACKSON

NEW YORK CITY, PRESENT

I walk with purpose away from the sound stage, straightening my shirt and knowing what I said was all wrong. April had texted not long ago telling me to keep their privacy under wraps, and I basically just opened my mouth to the whole world.

I've been in the spotlight for a while, but I've never gotten used to the lights and cameras in my face. I always make a fool of myself and say things I shouldn't. I shouldn't have ever agreed to come on this show. I should've known something like this would happen.

I felt the need, though, just to clear the air. If I didn't, the outlets would keep hounding me. The paparazzi would go crazy, only wanting more because of the smidgen of information they were baited with. I felt like I had no choice in saying my piece at least once, just to get it out of the way.

But I said a lot more than just my piece. I spoke about April and Theo when they weren't present to defend themselves, and I know nothing good will come of it.

First of all, I said Theo's name, which wasn't supposed to happen. I close my eyes and massage my temples, shaking my head when my assistant offers me a water bottle.

"Not now, Gloria," I say.

She backs off. "Is there something I can do?" she asks.

"I need my phone."

I keep my eyes closed as she goes and gets it for me, and open them when she clears her throat in front of me. As she extends her arm with my the phone in her hand, she opens her mouth to speak.

"You got a-"

But I'm not in the mood to hear a word of how my interview went, whether she's going to tell me it went great or horribly. I don't care, right now, about whatever comes out of her mouth. I'm aware of how harsh that sounds, but she isn't the woman on the forefront of my mind.

"I have a call to make," I say, cutting her off.

She raises her eyebrows and shuts her mouth, looking perturbed as she walks away and gives me the space I desperately need. I dug a hole for myself, and now I need to try and get out of it.

I tap on the telephone icon on the screen, looking for April's number, and see I got a call from her fifteen minutes ago, a call that'd been answered. I narrow my eyes, then it dawns on me that Gloria must have picked up. She's the only one with permission to answer my phone, and she probably deemed it important seeing as it was April on the other end.

It says the call only lasted for 21 seconds, though. That's barely anything, hardly enough time to ring.

Hoping to figure it out when she answers, I tap on the number and her face lights up my screen as the call connects. It's a picture I took in her kitchen; she's leaning forward with her hands on the island, a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. I stare at the picture for so long that I almost don't notice the call going to voicemail.

"Hey, you've reached April Kepner. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!"

A beep resounds in my ear, making me frown. It's unlike her not to pick up the phone, especially when I'm calling. I know she's pissed about the interview, but I figured she'd want to talk about it. At least, that she'd want to yell at me. I was prepared for that, I still am.

I glance at the clock. It's around 8:30am in Chicago, which means she's taking Theo to school right about now. So, of course she can't answer. She's busy with our son. I tell myself to call back in a half hour, when she'll be on the train to work.

"Gloria," I say, sliding off the tall chair I was sitting on. She turns to look at me with a irritated look on her face. "I'm sorry for being short. Did April call?"

"Yes," she says, turning around and busying herself with whatever she'd been doing. "I answered, but she hung up."

"She didn't say anything?" I ask.

"Nope," Gloria answers. "I said 'hello,' heard a breath, then the call disconnected." She turns to look at me again, more confused and curious this time. "Why? What was it about?"

"I don't know," I say, looking at my phone. "I'm trying to find out." I sigh. "She's probably pissed. Well, no. I know she's pissed."

"Why?"

"I said too much," I say. "I always fuckin' say too much."

"That's not news."

I chuckle humorlessly. "Yeah, I know," I say. "But she doesn't. And she asked me not to… man, I just fucked up. And I need to get ahold of her so I can make things right."

Gloria eyes me again.

"What?" I say.

"What happened with you and Steph?"

I click my phone off and slide it into my back pocket. "I, uh…" I say, shaking my head and raising my eyebrows. "I told her everything last night. It was… you know, a lot. She was pretty mad at me for not telling her sooner, and for lying the whole time I was in Chicago, basically." I clear my throat. "She broke up with me before I could. Which made me feel a little better, actually."

"You deserved it."

"Yeah," I admit. "I did. I know that."

Gloria turns her back again. "I liked Steph."

"I know you did," I say. "I did, too."

"What you did was cruel," she says.

"I know," I snap. "I'm perfectly aware. You rubbing it in isn't helping much. You're my assistant, not my therapist. And I have a lot more on my mind than just that, so I'm gonna need you to lay off."

She shoots me another look as she breezes by, and I feel a headache coming on. Suddenly, it feels like everyone in the world is against me.

…

The hours tick by. As I'm in the car on the way to the airport, heading back to Seattle, I call April again and again. But after the tenth time, I get the picture that she doesn't plan on answering, so I send her a text.

SENT, 12:48pm- hey april, i know youre mad. I know what i did was messed up and im sorry. But i really need you to answer, id really like to talk to you about all this. Ignoring me isnt gonna help.

I stare at the message screen and wait for the read receipt to come up, or even better, a typing bubble. But neither of those things happen. I check repeatedly until I'm on the plane and my phone has to go off, and as I wrap my neck pillow around the back of my head I tell myself I'll probably have a message waiting when we land.

But as I get in the car that'll take me back to my apartment and power up my phone, it comes up with nothing. Nothing I want to see, at least. I have a few emails from my manager about upcoming practices and game dates, but that's it. No calls, no texts.

"Goddamnit," I growl, tossing my phone so it hits the opposite car door.

The driver, Jake, looks in the rearview mirror. "Everything alright back there, Mr. Avery?"

"Fine," I grumble, retrieving my phone. "Everything's fine."

I get home and notice that everything Steph once brought over is missing. She never officially lived with me, but she was over frequently, and her absence is noticeable. There are picture frames gone, the bra that was hanging over the bedroom doorknob is no longer there, and the air smells different. I can't tell if I should feel relieved or sad, or a mixture of both.

I was stupid in thinking I could have both at once, and now I have neither.

I spend a few hours lying on the couch, attempting to nap and instead scrolling through pictures in my camera roll from the past week. There's one of Theo at the barber shop in the black cape, looking at me with cautious excitement as he got his hair cut. There's one of April by herself, scowling playfully as we walked together on the way to pick Theo up at school. Then, my favorite, Theo asleep on my chest during the carriage ride.

I miss them so bad it hurts.

I eventually have to get up and go to practice. My coach and teammates give me shit for disappearing for so long and egg me on to joke with them, but I'm not in the mood. I play the game as best I can and try to bury my head in the physicality of it all, but it only does a bit of good. I can't get all this off my mind.

"So, you got a son," my friend, Alex, says, as we walk into the locker room after practice is over.

I look at him as I take my helmet off. "Yeah," I say.

"And a baby mama, too, I'm guessing."

"Yeah," I say again. "One of those, too."

He shakes his head, laughing softly. "They'll drag you through the shitter," he says. "Up and down. But I'll tell ya, it's worth it."

"I know," I say.

"That's why you stayed in Chicago so long?"

"Uh-huh," I say. "I'd been away from them for so long, I don't know. It didn't feel right to just up and leave right away."

"You been paying your child support?"

I look at him funny. "No," I say. "I didn't even know my son existed until about a week ago."

"Wait, she hid him from you?"

I sigh. "It's not that simple. It wasn't vindictive, it's…" I rub one hand over my beard, scratching the stubble. "It's a long story. I don't wanna get into it right now."

I get home and notice I have a call from my mother. I shake my head at the phone, though she can't see me, and tell myself to call her back in the morning. I don't think I can handle a conversation with her yet tonight.

I get in bed and try April one more time, thinking that maybe since the day is over and she's calmer, then I'll have a chance in talking to her. But, just like every time before, my call goes ignored and gets sent to voicemail.

...

When my mother comes into town for Thanksgiving a couple days later, I'm still down on my luck and I don't feel like myself. This holiday is centered around family, and while my mom and I have always been close, there are two more people who I'd love to have sitting with us at this restaurant.

"It's been a while since I've seen my baby's face on TV so much," she says, smoothing her napkin on her lap.

I meet her eyes and nod. "I know," I say. "I'm sorry. I've been meaning to call."

"It's alright," she says, and there's something she's not saying that I can see in her eyes. "I know you've been going through it."

"To say the least," I mutter, taking a sip of my wine.

"So, my baby has a baby," she says.

I scoff lightly. "You don't sound all that surprised."

She chuckles. "I wish I could say I was."

"What do you mean?"

She shakes her head. "Back when you went off to Bama so depressed, you were so taken aback that I knew it was because of April," she says. "You're giving me the same look now that you did then. I have eyes, honey. I saw how in love you two were, I've said that time and time again. And with the timing of everything - that little girl running off and leaving you with barely a note, it all adds up. It just makes sense." She makes a small, affirmative sound. "It may not have been right. But we women don't think logically all the time - we do what's right for our babies. And after those babies are born, they take every ounce of care we have. None of it goes to ourselves anymore." She raises her eyebrows. "But when she left, she wasn't only thinking about that little boy, was she? That beautiful little boy… no. No, she was thinking about you, too." She nods. "Selfless girl. With a mother's heart."

I'm silent. I don't know what to say in response to that, or if there's anything I should say. Her words are heavy, all of them true.

"What did she have to say when you saw her?" my mother asks.

"She apologized," I say. "For… not telling me. For not letting me know him. We said a lot. I wasn't letting myself miss her before, but…" I shake my head.

"It all came back," my mother says. "And that's why you broke up with Steph."

"You heard about that?"

She nods. "Everyone's heard about it, honey." She reaches across the table to take my hand, and I let her. "Tell me about your beautiful little boy."

My heart expands, knowing I'm in the company of someone who I can talk candidly with about Theo. I can't help but smile as I picture his face, his new haircut, his toothy grin that looks just like April's.

"He's so smart," I say. "He's six, and he's adding four-digit numbers. Isn't that crazy?"

She smiles.

"He talks just like April. And he has this huge heart. This huge, huge heart. He thinks about other people's feelings before his own. Like, what kid does that, you know?" I nod as I think more about him. "He has asthma, but he's okay. April takes really good care of him. They live in this cute apartment in Uptown, they've lived there his whole life. She's… she's really amazing with him."

"Of course she is," my mom says. "I bet she's a wonderful mother."

"She is," I murmur, picturing her carrying Theo to bed, his body folded against hers. "And he loves her so much. She's his favorite person in the world. They're really close."

Her expression changes from soft and sentimental to bittersweet, and I know why. She's always been good at reading my mind.

"You feel like you missed out," she says.

"Well, I did," I say. "I did miss out."

She pauses, piecing her thoughts together before voicing them. "Don't be too hard on her, sweetheart," she says. "She did what she thought-"

"Was best for me, I know," I say, snapping a bit. "But if she would've just talked to me, would've just… just confided in me, like she did with everything else. I… mom, we told each other everything. She was my best friend. My favorite person. And the fact that she kept this from me, kept him…"

"But look at your life now," my mom says, pausing for effect. "Look at all you've been blessed with because of the opportunities you were given. If she would've told you she was pregnant, what would you have done? Think about that."

We stare deep into each other's eyes. I know she's not wrong, but I don't necessarily agree with her, either.

"You live a very charmed life, Jackson Avery," she says. "And April has lived one that is very much the opposite. And now, you have every chance to fill in the blanks. What matters is right now." She squeezes my hand. "There's no right and wrong in this. She wasn't right in keeping him from you, but she wasn't wrong, either. Do you understand?"

I nod, because I do. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around, but I'll keep trying.

Our food comes, and before I eat I subtly slip out my phone and shoot April a text. I haven't sent one in a few days, but I can't resist now.

SENT, 8:04pm- happy thanksgiving to you and little man :) hope you guys have a great holiday.

Of course, I get no answer. But I expected as much.

Mom and I have been quiet for a while, but over dessert I break the silence.

"She's not speaking to me," I say, setting down my fork. I leave my piece of pumpkin pie unfinished, which is very unlike me. I know she notices.

"What's that?"

"April," I say. "She won't answer my calls or texts."

Mom's eyebrows crease together. "And why's that?"

"I think because of what I said on Good Morning America," I say, and catch her up. She stopped watching my TV spots a long time ago.

After she's aware of what happened, she sighs. "Jackson," she says.

"I know," I say. "You don't have to tell me. I already know. I'm just… I'm tired of waiting for her to make the move. This is just history repeating itself, me sitting back and being complacent. Waiting for whatever happens… to happen."

"Then stop waiting," Mom says.

"What?"

"Stop waiting," she says, more firmly this time. "You need to make the move, the grand gesture, whatever that might be." She looks at me pointedly. "It's your turn, son. Stop sitting back and waiting for the world to happen to you. You need to happen to the world."

O'HARE AIRPORT, CHICAGO, PRESENT

After I get three games out of the way, I fly back to Chicago during the first week of December. I get into O'Hare airport around 7pm, and know that by the time I get to Uptown, Theo will already be asleep, which is what I want.

I don't want to confuse him or get him involved in mine and April's mess. He is a different being entirely.

I didn't come here to fix the romance between us. I came here for my son. I came here so she'll know I care about him, and I won't let our budding relationship die off. That can't happen. And she needs to realize how important he is to me.

I couldn't think of a gesture more grand than this.

I also can't stop thinking about the moments I've missed with Theo. As I travel alone, I think about the day he was born. He'd told me he came into the world on the backseat of a Greyhound bus.

Around that time, April wore this white dress with cherries printed on it almost every day. She had told me she just liked it, but now I realize she probably wore it so much because nothing else fit or hid the bump very well.

I picture her on the bus in that dress, going into labor with no one at her side. But then I imagine myself there, holding her hand and telling her you're strong, you can do this, there's no one on earth more powerful than you. You're bringing another life into existence. You are the epitome of strength.

I imagine the warm, damp wet of my newborn son in my arms as I lay curled up next to his mother. His tiny body wrapped in a onesie as April cradled him and walked around the apartment, or sat with the radio on while he nursed. My chest hurts when I think about the quiet little moments I'll never see firsthand.

I think about Theo's first steps. I can practically hear April cheering him on with, come on baby! Come on, you can do it! I know you can do it!

And he did do it. He walked straight into her arms. But what if he had walked into mine?

I think about his first train ride, or the first year they created the downtown carriage ride tradition. I think about his first word. If I'd been around, might it have been 'dada' instead?

I've missed out on so much. I won't miss anything else.

By the time I get to the apartment, it's around 8:30 and the neighborhood is quiet. As I look up past their balcony, though, I see the living room light on. She's still up.

I ring the doorbell and wait nervously for her to come downstairs. My palms are sweating as I clench them into fists, and I can't stop grinding my teeth. This is the moment, the now or never moment, that I've been amping myself up for since I decided to do it. This is the moment that matters.

She descends the stairs dressed in plaid pajama pants and a blue robe, freezing when she sees it's me. For a moment, I'm terrified she'll turn around and leave me behind a locked door. But she doesn't do that. Instead, she comes forward and opens it, standing in the small space she's created.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Her eyes are laden with emotion. I don't know where to begin in decoding the expression.

"I need to talk to you," I say. My voice isn't demanding or authoritative - I'm practically pleading. She's been wrong in ignoring me, but I know I've been in the wrong, too. I prompted this from her.

"I can't see you right now," she says, then tries to close the door before I stop it with one hand.

"April, please," I say. "I flew all the way from Seattle. I just… I need five minutes."

She stares at me, lips slightly parted and glassy eyes wide. She doesn't move to close the door again.

"I know you're mad," I say. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did on GMA. I know that was wrong, and I'm so sorry. I get stupid in front of cameras. And I know… I know that's not an excuse. Believe me, I know. And I'm sorry I can't take it back. I wish I could."

My chest feels somewhat lighter having gotten that off of it. I expect to see her facial expression change to something more open, but if anything, she grows angrier.

"How can you come here and just… say that to me, apologize all nice, when you're still with her?" she spits.

"What?" I ask, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

She narrows her eyes. "Do not play dumb with me, Jackson Avery."

"I'm not!" I say. "I swear to god, I have no damn clue what you're talking about."

"You're still with Steph," she says, pointing a finger. "And don't even try to lie and tell me you're not, because she answered your phone when I called."

I think back to the last time April called me, right after I did the interview. I was already broken up with Steph, and Gloria answered the phone.

"No," I say. "No, April, you have it all wrong."

"How?" she says. "How could I possibly be wrong?"

"That wasn't Steph," I say. "That was my assistant, Gloria. I could call her right now and you'd hear that it was her. Are you gonna make me do that?"

She recoils, and I see something shift in her eyes. She knows I'm not lying.

"No," she says softly.

"I broke up… well, technically Steph broke up with me the night I got back. Her stuff's been moved out for weeks and I haven't heard from her."

"Oh," she says.

"So that's the reason?" I say. "That's the reason you've been ignoring all my calls and texts? Even the ones where I just wanna talk to my son?"

Her face flushes with color. "You said exactly what I told you not to," she says, voice trembling. "Life doesn't feel normal anymore. It doesn't feel like it used to. Around every corner, I'm scared someone's gonna see us and go crazy."

Tears well in her eyes and drip over the edges. I resist the urge to reach and wipe them away. She doesn't want that.

"I'm sorry," I say. "For everything. I know I was wrong. But you were, too. You can't…" I sigh. "You can't shut me out like that, April." I look at her desperately. "I need him. Do you not understand how much I need him?"

"So do I!" she says, snapping as she cries harder. "I need him safe. I need him in one piece. I need him worrying about things a first-grader should worry about, like homework and recess time. I don't need him obsessing over you, and when in the world he's gonna see you next. I need my son acting like my son." She smacks her chest and lays her flat hand there. "I need my Theo. I can't have him in his head like he was when you left." She lets her hand fall. "You hurt him."

My heart cracks hearing the words said out loud. I knew they were true, but staring them in the face is harder than I ever imagined.

"I know," I say, wounded. "And I want to fix it."

She's silent where I expected she'd cut in, giving me the space to continue.

"I just wanna spend time with him," I say. "I cleared my schedule. I played a few games back home. I wanna be here. I'll stay at the hotel, I'm not trying anything funny with you. I'm here for him."

Her eyes roam my face, darting everywhere without landing.

"I don't wanna miss out on him anymore, April," I say, and my voice cracks. "I just don't."

She wrings her hands, the tear stains still visible on her cheeks. "You're not going to leave again, are you?"

I look at her, concentrating on the little details of her face. The worry crease between her eyebrows, the bags under her eyes, the paleness of her lips. She's exhausted.

"If I do, it'll be with an explanation, a proper goodbye, and a designated return time," I say. "I promise. I just want to do this right."

She pauses, then says quietly, "So do I."

UPTOWN, CHICAGO, PRESENT

Instead of traveling there together, I meet April at Theo's school. As I walk up, I don't notice the whispers and glances at first, not until they get louder and I hear my name among them.

"Is that Jackson Avery?"

"Yeah, he has a son who goes here. Do you not watch TV?"

I look over my shoulder and feel a handful of eyes on me. I keep my head low and make it to April, who's leaning against the brick side of the school with her arms crossed.

"They see you?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "They never noticed before. I… I guess it didn't cross my mind that they would now."

"After the GMA thing, everyone notices," she says. "Everyone in Theo's class was asking him a thousand questions about his football player daddy. He came home crying three times that first week after you left, after the interview."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," she says. "That's what we've been dealing with here."

A stone of guilt sits in my gut, and she knows she tossed it there to sink.

"Does he know I'm coming?"

"I told him this morning."

"Is he excited?"

She looks at me, eyes unfeeling. Or she's trying very hard to make them unfeeling. "Of course he is," she says.

When the bell rings, I crane my neck to watch for Theo's class. When I see him, I can't help but smile at how his hair has grown out a little and the stylish outfit he's wearing - faded jeans and a red hoodie under his winter coat. It looks like something I'd choose.

"Daddy!" I hear him shout from across the asphalt. He breaks from the line and careens through bunches of children, backpack thumping against his back, to get to me.

When he makes it, he flies into my arms and I pick him up and spin him around.

"Daddy!" he sings again, arms tighter around my neck. "You came back, daddy! You came back!"

"Of course I did," I say. "I was always gonna come back."

I catch April's eyes over Theo's shoulder, but she looks away quickly. Her arms are still crossed, body closed off, as she stays a few feet away from us.

"Hey, teddy," she says, after I set him down. "How was school?"

"Good," he says, taking her hand routinely. "I turned my homework in way early. My teacher was really impressed, just like you said, mama!"

She smiles at him, petting his hair with her free hand.

"Mom," he says, trying to whisper though I can still clearly hear him. "Daddy's here again. Are you happy?"

I expect her to look at me, but she doesn't. She keeps her eyes centered on Theo, who watches her with anticipation.

"Yes," she says, and leaves it at that.

"Mommy," he says, tugging on her arm. "Your mouth is smiling but your eyes look sad."

"I'm okay, honey," she says. "How about you tell your dad what you've been up to the last few weeks?"

Theo looks to me. "Christmas is in 20 days!" he says.

I laugh. "You're right," I say.

"Mama says we're probably not getting that much from Santa this year. But that's okay. 'Cause I'm gonna make her something at school, but she doesn't know what it is."

I smile at him, but feel a pang in my heart at the fact that they don't have enough funds for a lavish Christmas. I have an inner battle with myself whether or not I should do something to change that.

"What did you do for Thanksgiving?" I ask him.

"We helped out people who don't have enough money to have houses," he says. "We handed out soup to them. And after everyone had a bowl, we sat down and ate with them and made new friends. Mama told a lot of stories. I did, too!"

So, they volunteered at a soup kitchen. They volunteered while I sat with my mom at a posh restaurant where people were forced to work on a holiday.

"That's so nice," I say.

"I made a friend named Bernie," Theo tells me. "He said he lives under a bridge like the troll, but I'm the nicest kid he's ever met."

I can't help but laugh. "That's kinda awesome," I say.

Then, April cuts in. "I have some errands to run," she says, fiddling with the strap of her purse. "Bring him back to the apartment by dinner, okay?"

"Mommy," Theo says, grabbing her hand. "You're leaving?"

She kneels and holds his face, smiling because she's looking at her world. "I am," she says. "You're gonna spend some time with your daddy."

Theo blinks. "But you want to spend time with him, too, right?"

She strokes his chin. "I think you guys should spend some time without me today," she says. "Boy time. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"I don't know," Theo says.

It strikes me that this will be the first time we've hung out without her. Every time before this, he's insisted that she stay. But now, that option is taken from the table.

"It'll be awesome," I say. "We can talk about gross stuff that Mom hates."

Theo looks up at me, his expression a bit worried. "I don't like potty talk," he says.

"Okay," I say, laughing. "Then we don't have to."

April kisses him on the forehead. "Have fun with your dad. I think he has some plans for you guys, and I'll see you for dinner."

"Daddy for dinner, too?" Theo asks.

"I don't know," she says. "We'll see." Then she stands up and looks at me. "Be safe, please."

After April leaves, we both watch her go. Theo takes my hand with his tiny one and I squeeze his fingers. "You wanna play some football?" I ask.

"I never knowed how to play," he admits.

"Great news," I say. "You're gonna learn from the best."

I get us both in football practice garb - I brought mine from home and I picked his up at a sporting goods store. Once he's all decked out, he looks like a mini-me. I snap a picture; I can't get enough.

"This feels kinda weird, daddy," he says, trailing after me on the field. "It's heavy."

"You get used to it, bud," I say. "Have you ever thrown a football before?"

He shakes his head no.

"Then I know the perfect place to start."

By the end of our 'practice,' Theo tackles me to the ground and I let him. He erupts into a fit of giggles as he rolls off and runs, tempting me to chase him. I don't disappoint - I catch up in a split second and scoop him up from the ground, tossing him over my shoulder.

When his laughter stops and he starts to wheeze, my heart stops and my skin goes cold.

"Shit," I say, setting him down and getting his helmet off. "Where's your inhaler?"

He points. I follow his finger.

"Backpack," I say, hurrying over. "Fuck. Shit. Backpack."

I get the inhaler out, pop the lid off, and give it to him with shaking hands. He takes a big puff and closes his eyes, breathing easier after a few moments.

"Daddy…" he sighs.

"What, baby?" I say, crouched at his side, still on high alert.

"Swear jar."

…

Sitting at a coffee shop near the apartment a little while later, Theo holds a hot chocolate in both hands while I sip my latte. No one recognizes me here - they couldn't care less. It's what I love the most about Uptown, the neighborhood they live in. Everyone minds their own business.

"Is Mom gonna freak out that you had an asthma attack?" I ask.

He shrugs and blows on his drink. Dressed in his school clothes, he looks little again - not all decked out with bulky shoulder pads and a big helmet.

"She's okay as long as I'm okay," he says, not realizing how much weight his words hold.

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and studies me, green eyes searching my face. What he's searching for, I'm not sure.

"Daddy," he says. "When are you gonna leave again?"

His question hits me like a blow to the stomach. I stare at him for a moment, calculating my response. "Why do you ask, buddy?" I say.

His eyes concentrate on the steam from his drink as he traces the lip of the cup. "I just…" he says, then sighs. He looks over to the counter and watches the baristas do their work. "I just kinda wanna know when to be ready. So I can tell Mommy. And maybe she won't have to cry that much this time."

Theo looks away from the baristas, back to me. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to figure out how to respond.

"I'm doing the best I can to stay," I say. "I wanna stay here for a long time. I don't always wanna be up and leaving you, you know?"

"And Mommy," he adds.

"And Mommy," I repeat. I reach across the table and take his hand with a serious expression. "I love you, Theo. I wanna be here, and… I wanna be your dad."

His eyes are wide and soulful as they meet mine. He doesn't know how to respond, and he doesn't have to. All he has to do is hold my hand back, and that's what he does.