He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “We won’t fall.”

Big Boy looked forward to his nightly walk with the family. The enormous mutt was old, a year older than Liam, and these days he walked extremely slowly. They went at night, after dinner, because it was cooler then. It was nice, walking the dog together as a family. Sometimes Peaches walked between Greg and Liam, holding both their hands, feeling truly content.

Tonight the moon was full, the air crisp with the onset of fall and sweetened by the smoke from lit fireplaces. Peaches tried to take Liam’s hand but he was looking at his feet, his hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Greg, has Liam told you about the girl he’s tutoring? She’s Roy Clarke’s daughter.”

“Her name is Shy,” Liam said. “Shy Clarke.”

“She sounds like a comic book character,” Greg observed.

Peaches laughed. “Totally.”

Liam glared at them. “Maybe she’s faking being bad at math because she’s really an evil nuclear weapons specialist about to take over the planet.”

“It’s possible.” Greg chuckled, and for the thousandth time Peaches marveled at the fact that she’d married someone even less mature than she was. Greg was happiest when watching old Bill Murray comedies like Groundhog Day or Caddyshack, winning at Connect Four, or figuring out how to teach his kindergarten students the words to totally inappropriate songs like “Fight the Power” and “Margaritaville.”

Their nighttime walks usually followed the same circuit: over the Gowanus Canal bridge on Union Street, down to Clinton Street and over to Cobble Hill Park, up Henry Street to Kane, past the schoolyard of Peaches’ school to Court Street, on to Union Street and then home. Sometimes Big Boy caught a scent and took a detour. Tonight, he decided to veer backward on Kane Street. He stopped at the corner of Kane and Strong Place, peed on the neatly landscaped bushes outside the pretty brick house on the corner, did an about-face, and shuffled on.

“Mom,” Liam moaned. “That’s the wrong way.”

“He knows,” Peaches said.

Humoring their beloved old dog, they continued down Kane. At Cheever Place the entire family stopped short.

“Whoa. Someone’s having a good night,” Liam said.

“How do you know what that smell is?” Peaches demanded playfully. When she’d asked Liam about pot before, he’d acted like he’d never heard of it. She turned to Greg. “Am I wrong to be suspicious? How does he know?”

Greg kissed her forehead. “Everyone knows.”

“Kids smoke weed in the bathroom at school all the time,” Liam explained. “Not me, per se. Other kids.”

“Uh-huh.” Peaches inhaled deeply and peeked down the dimly lit street, still feeling playful. “Let’s go spy on them.”