Page 119 of You Fall First

“Why?”

“Because your mom’s here now.” I smile, then shift my focus to Paige. “I was thinking, if you want to use your own furniture when the movers get here, we can put the extra bed I have in storage. Or we can put yours in storage. Whatever you want.”

“We did the sheets today,” Dutton announces, his feet kicking the back of my seat. “Pillowcase. Pillowcase. Sheet. Sheet. I helped Miss Jo put the clean ones on the bed.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” Paige says. “Maybe we can invite Miss Jo over sometime so I can thank her in person. Or we could visit her at her house.”

“She lives with us,” Dutton chirps.

“Not anymore,” I say. “We talked about this, remember? That’s why you changed the sheets. For your mom.”

“Pillowcase. Pillowcase. Sheet. Sheet,” Dutton chants again with more kicking.

We fall silent for less than a minute before Dutton starts a singsongy retelling of seeing Baby Magnetron at the theater.

For a kid who slept through more than half the movie, he sure has a lot to say.

As we pull up to the house, my chest’s already tight, and the tension behind my sternum only gets worse when I note the empty spot under the tree where Jo’s been parking.

Of course she’s not here.

We already said our hasty goodbyes when I swung by after work to grab Dutton. Mostly, I was worried about getting to the airport before Paige’s flight landed. But I was also completely unprepared for what to say to Jo in the moment. The emotions felt too big to tackle.

So I went with ignoring them.

Until now, that is.

We step inside, me dragging Paige’s luggage and Paige clinging to Dutton’s hand, and the quiet of the house is a gut punch. Jo left the bedroom door open. The scent of clean laundry hangs in the air. There’s a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand.

When I notice the waffle maker still in the kitchen, I swallow against the lump in my throat.

I should have known Jo would leave that behind for us.

But she took our routine with her.

When bedtime approaches, I expect Dutton might struggle to wind down, what with all the excitement of Paige’s arrival. I also have no idea if he’ll insist on any of the rituals we’ve established or revert to the things he and Paige used to do. So after bath and jammies, I take the reins and toss out the idea of the three of us watching an episode of Bluey before books.

“A little couch snuggle might be nice,” I suggest.

Only after the words are out do I realize that’s the term Jo always used.

Couch snuggle.

As it turns out, Paige loves the idea. And why not? Cuddling with a kid who smells like baby shampoo and toothpaste is the best. For his part, Dutton curls right up into his mom, one little hand on her stomach, the other up by his cheek.

He’s out cold in under five minutes.

“I hope you weren’t expecting an all-night party,” I whisper to Paige.

“This is better. We all need the rest.”

“Been a long day.”

She sighs. “Been a long year.”

“True story.”

She looks down at Dutton’s fuzzy head. “I want to carry him into bed myself, but …” Her voice trails off, ending on a tinge of sadness.